Crossed Paths
by Fuzzy Elf
Summary: Strider's companion, Halbyn, a lady Ranger, daughter of Halbarad, was with him that night in Bree, and she captured Pippin's fancy at first sight. Though not part of the Fellowship, she was important to the Quest. PippinOC
1. Crossed Paths

Chapter One: Crossed Paths

The rain was coming down in sheets in and around the little village of Bree. The sun had set not two hours earlier, and at the Inn of _The Prancing Pony_, Barliman Butterbur, the Innkeeper, stared suspiciously at the figure that entered his establishment. She had been in and out since late afternoon, sometimes simply standing in the doorway, but always watching. For who or what she was watching for Barliman did not know. All he knew was that she and the Ranger Strider had done the same night after night for the past two weeks.

Rangers. Barliman shook his head at the thought. Always so mysterious with those folk. "Mysterious and dangerous," as he warned all patrons who asked, and some who didn't. True enough they kept to themselves and didn't really bother anybody, and the nights they stayed at the inn were paid for well in advance, but that didn't mean Barliman trusted them any further than he could throw them.

With a welcoming smile on his fat red face, Barliman continued to serve his patrons, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the Ranger girl. With rainwater dripping off her dark green cloak she walked swiftly and silently to the back of the room where Strider sat thoughtfully puffing his pipe.

"There is not sign or sound of them in any direction," she told him in a hushed voice. "And Gandalf has yet to arrive as well." She sat down and wiped the water from out of her eyes. "Something has happened. I can feel it."

Strider turned his shadowed eyes to her. "If that is so, then it is more important than ever that we stay here and wait for them."

"But we should search the woods for them-"

"No, Halbyn, my friend," Strider cut her off, taking the pipe from his mouth. "Gandalf told them to go to Bree and meet him here and this is where they will come, no matter what trouble they've found. If we were to search for them and miss them, they might arrive here and be fooled into saying more than they should. The Dark Lord has spies even this far." He put his pipe back into his mouth and frowned. "No, here is where we must stay. If Gandalf does not come, it is my duty to lead the Ringbearer to Rivendell."

"I hope you know what you are doing," Halbyn sighed, then went again to look outside.

"So do I," Strider nodded, his grey eyes refusing to show his worry. "So do I."

* * *

The door to the inn swung open and both Rangers looked up to behold four half-grown little men enter and walk to the bar. Halbyn held her breath and Strider leaned forward, both with their attention intently fixed on the Hobbits, especially the tallest as he approached Barliman Butterbur and began to speak. They watched his lips carefully.

"Underhill?" Halbyn was unsure of the name.

"An alias," Strider assured her. "The name Baggins would be unwise to use outside the Shire. Look, he speaks of Gandalf." Both sat back and Halbyn looked at Strider. "I will watch him for a while to be sure," he said. "If it is indeed them, they will not be alone. I have heard foul screams in the night, and if what I sense is true, then the Nine have left Minas Morgul and they may be close. Keep watch." Halbyn nodded, then drew her hood low over her eyes and went outside.

Strider puffed deeply on his pipe, never taking his eyes off the Halfling. He watched as the four of them sat at the small Hobbit-sized table and drank their ale while stealing glances in his direction as they felt his eyes on them. He watched as they asked the Innkeeper for his name and as _The Pony_'s patrons urged for a song of the Shire. And he watched as the so-called Mr. Underhill fell off the table as he sang and vanished from sight.

Strider sprang to his feet among the startled commotion of the patrons around him. The Halfling was indeed Frodo Baggins, the Ringbearer, as he had guessed. He had to find him before any spies of Mordor did.

Scanning the room with his keen eyes, Strider saw the Hobbit crawl out from under a nearby table. To those who had not been paying close attention it would seem that Frodo had crawled under the table after his fall to escape being trampled in the excitement. Most of the people seemed ready to accept this explanation and calmed down, but Strider was not so easily fooled. The Ranger swiftly made his way to where the Hobbit was getting to his feet and grabbed his shoulder. The Halfling gasped.

"You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mister Underhill," said Strider in a hushed voice and then threw Frodo in the direction of the stairs.

* * *

Samwise Gamgee and Meriadoc Brandybuck stared wide-eyed at each other, not entirely believing what they had just witnessed: Frodo had disappeared before their eyes - mid-song and without warning. They tried to find words to speak, but neither knew what to say.

"What is going on?" Peregrin Took - Pippin to his friends - demanded as he approached the table where Sam and his cousin sat. "Where's Frodo?"

"There!" Sam suddenly snapped back into reality as he saw his Master being dragged up the stairs by the man Barliman had called the dangerous Ranger Strider.

"Where's he taking Frodo?" Merry jumped to his feet.

"Not anywhere friendly by my reckoning," Pippin said.

"I don't care if it's to a banquet fit for all the Shire," Sam growled. "Won't nobody be taking Mister Frodo anywhere without Samwise Gamgee to have something to say about it!"

With that, Sam clenched his small fists and flew across the room as fast as his short legs could carry him. Merry and Pippin were close on his heels after arming themselves with whatever was handy: a candle stand and a bar stool. The three Hobbits pushed themselves past the clusters of patrons and ran into old Barliman as he collected empty glasses. Sam demanded to know which room that Strider was in and Barliman was too startled to decline. They flew up the stairs to a room at the end of the hall and Sam threw the door open and held up his fists, ready to take on anything the Ranger would throw at him.

"Let him go or I'll have you, Longshanks!" he demanded with a determined gleam in his eye, though he was looking up the blade of the Ranger's sharp sword.

Strider's hard face softened and he sheathed his weapon. "You have a stout heart, little Hobbit, but that will not save you." Sam, Merry and Pippin, still untrusting, held their ground as Strider turned back to where Frodo stood, unharmed. "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo," he said sternly. "They're coming."

"Who's coming?" Frodo asked, visibly frightened.

Strider studied him for a moment. "Your eyes tell me that you already know who hunts you. And if that is so, then you know enough for the time being." He went to the window and looked out. "The four of you must stay here tonight. Your room is no longer safe."

"We aren't staying with you one more minute unless you tell us who you are and why we should trust you," Merry stuck out his chin in defiance.

"And how do you know so much about Mister Frodo?" said Sam.

"You may call me Strider, as the Innkeeper told you, for it suits me at the moment. I am a Ranger of the North and a friend of Gandalf the Grey," Strider explained as patiently as he could manage. "And I am here to protect you from those who would do you harm, as Gandalf hoped I would should he be unable to be here himself." Merry huffed and Sam scowled, both unable to think of an argument to counter the Ranger's word.

"Where is Gandalf then?" Frodo asked.

Strider sighed. "That I do not know, Frodo, but I do know where he intended to take you. If indeed he has simply been delayed, then he will mean to meet us there."

"Where is there?" inquired Pippin.

"You will find out soon enough, but for now you must all sleep," Strider told him. "We have a long journey ahead of us and you will need your strength."

Before they could rest, however, Strider took them down to their room and they quickly stuffed their little Hobbit beds up with pillows and blankets until it looked that four Halflings were curled asleep inside. They then returned to Strider's room. Strider sat by the window, watching carefully for any sign of danger. The bed was more than large enough for all four Hobbits to sleep comfortably side by side, and Merry, Pippin and Sam, though still untrusting as they were, were asleep in minutes. Frodo, however, was uneasy and unable to sleep. He could feel the Ring in his pocket and it seemed to him that it was growing heavier with every passing minute and it troubled him greatly. He sat on the bed watching Strider quietly.

Strider peered through the rain, keeping his eyes on the rooftop of the gatehouse down and across the street. There Halbyn crouched, cloak drawn tightly around her, hidden by the darkness from untrained eyes. She straightened and slowly stepped forward with her attention fully fixed outside the town wall. She drew her hands to her mouth and gave out a whistling bird-call, then slid out of sight. Not too long after the sound of enraged screams could be heard from the Hobbits' room as the Servants of Sauron realized they had been fooled.

Sam, Merry and Pippin awoke with a start, but Frodo did not move, his bright eyes still fixed on the Ranger. The screams came again and Frodo could wait no longer. "What are they?" he asked.

Strider turned to face him. "They were once Men. Great Kings of Men. And then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them Nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling to Darkness. Now they are slaves to His will. They are the Nazgûl - Ringwraiths - neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One.

"They will never stop hunting you," said Strider gravely, rising from his seat then going to Frodo and clapping his shoulders. "And that is why you must trust me to protect you from their evil." Frodo gazed uncertainly at him and Strider returned to his seat. "They have been foiled and will not return tonight, but they are far from being finished. Take your sleep while you can." And uneasy as they were, all four Hobbits could no longer fight the sleep from overtaking them.

* * *

Pippin was roused out of his sleep by the sound of hushed voices. His dreams had been tormented again by the horrible dry creaking laugh of Old Man Willow; the same dream that had come to him in the house of Tom Bombadil. This time there were no comforting words to lull him back to a peaceful sleep, and he was rather grateful to the voices for aiding his escape from the accursed nightmare.

He sat up quietly so as not to disturb Merry beside him, and, perched on the edge of the bed, listened to the voices in the doorway of the room. One was Strider's and the other was one Pippin did not recognize. The young Took's curiosity gnawed at his better judgment until it finally got the best of him and he slid off the bed and crept closer to hear the conversation.

Pippin crouched behind a large wooden trunk that sat next to the door. Now he could see to whom Strider was speaking. She was tall, though certainly not as tall as Strider or Gandalf, and Pippin guessed that his judgment perhaps wasn't terribly reliable since all of the race of Men were tall to him. Her dark green hood was drawn up and Pippin could not see her face, but something about her voice intrigued him. She spoke in a whisper and for one reason or another he couldn't help but strain his ears to listen.

"They've left the town," she was saying. "The Halflings are safe for now."

"No," Strider shook his head. "They will never be truly safe. Even Rivendell will not be sanctuary for much longer. The Dark Lord grows stronger as we speak."

"Tell me what I must do," she said.

Strider thought for a moment. "Ride on ahead to Rivendell. Give word to Lord Elrond that the Ringbearer is under my protection, and see if there has been any word from Gandalf. The Nine should not bother you, but ride hard nevertheless."

"What about you? They'll be watching the road, and you have no horses," she argued.

"I will lead them into the Wild," Strider said. "It will not be easy to track a Ranger and four light-footed Hobbits off the road. But this is why you must get word to Rivendell - we will need all the help we can get if we hope to survive this journey."

She pulled her hood back and Pippin held his breath, gazing at her in utter fascination. Her long dark hair was pulled back and braided, and on either side of her face hung two thin braids. Her pale grey eyes sought any unspoken reassurance Strider's eyes would give her. Pippin studied her eyes carefully, sensing both strength and compassion mirrored there. If he had one wish at that moment it would be to look into those eyes and have her tell him her name.

"I understand," she nodded and embraced the Ranger. "Until Rivendell, my friend."

"Be safe," Strider said. "And give my tidings to the Lady of Rivendell." Both of them clapped their right hand to their breast and then the girl was gone. Strider closed the door and stepped back before speaking. "Have you heard enough to satisfy your curiosity, Master Took?"

Pippin stepped out from the shadows with a sheepish look on his face. "You knew I was there?"

"There is not much in this world that escapes a Ranger's senses," said Strider. "She knew as well."

"Is she a Ranger then?" Pippin asked, his embarrassment gone and his curiosity returning. Strider nodded. "What an odd riddle this is. Old Merry has come to Bree many-a-time, and sometimes I've come along as well and never have I heard tale of a Lady Ranger before. What is her name?"

Strider's features softened and he smiled kindly. "Should she and you be fated to cross paths again, I will leave her name as part of her tale to tell. Know only that she is a dear friend and I trust her with my life. That is enough for now. Think of her fondly as you dream, Pippin, and ever sweeter will it be when you set eyes on her again." And Pippin returned to the bed with visions of pale grey eyes in his mind.

* * *

Strider woke the Hobbits again at the first light of dawn and after bargaining for a pack pony from a shady sort of character, they left Bree. The Ranger had scouted ahead for a-ways, and now cautiously led them into the forest. Merry walked beside Frodo, noting carefully that they were not taking a beaten path and said so to his cousin.

"Where are you taking us?" Frodo called up to Strider.

"Into the Wild," the Ranger called back without turning around and continued to seek his own trail through the trees and brush.

Merry looked back at Sam who was leading the pony and with him exchanged a cautious look. "How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf?" he asked Frodo.

"We have no choice but to trust him," Frodo replied, knowing that his response would not please his Brandybuck cousin.

Merry huffed and Sam remained unsatisfied. He did not like the looks of that Strider as he led them into the unknown wilderness where nobody might ever find them again. And Pippin's question at _The Prancing Pony_ remained unanswered: where is the there they'd set off to? "But where's he leading us?" he called up to Frodo, hoping his Master would have an answer.

Strider had been listening and decided that there was no harm in revealing their destination. If nothing else, perhaps it would gain a little of their trust. "To Rivendell, Master Gamgee," he said. "To the House of Elrond."

"Rivendell?" Sam's eyes twinkled with excitement. "Did you hear that? We're going to see the Elves!" Frodo and Merry were deep in discussion and did not respond, so Sam turned to Pippin who was bringing up the rear with a far-away look in his eyes. "Pippin, did you hear?" said Sam but Pippin did not hear him. "Pippin!"

The young Took jumped. "Steady on, Sam! There's no need to shout at me!"

"You've been walking around with your head in the clouds all morning and no mistaking that," said Sam with his hand on his hip. "I'd reckon you've been scheming up a way to nick my share of breakfast when I sleep, haven't you?"

Now Pippin couldn't deny that this would be a delightful joke to play on Sam, but in truth his thoughts dwelled on a vision of a much different sort - the Lady Ranger, already to whom his curiosity and affection belonged. He guessed that hours before she had taken the very same road they'd just been on, and wondered now where she might be.

Pippin looked at Sam who still awaited an answer. "Well we certainly think a lot of ourselves don't we, Mister Gamgee?" he mocked Sam's accusation. "But I have much better things to bother my little head about than your breakfast, now off with you!"

"Now see here-" Sam was about ready to give Pippin a piece of his mind for that bit of cheek but he was interrupted.

"Sam! Pippin!" It was Frodo. During their exchange Sam and Pippin had stopped walking, and the others realized they were missing and doubled back. "Do not fall behind," said Frodo, and Strider cast a disapproving look at them.

"Pardon me, Mister Frodo," Sam looked sheepish and walked on ahead with his Master. Pippin's eyes twinkled mischievously and he scampered up to where Merry stood.

"Blockhead," said Merry though he was smiling. "You could have been lost, though I don't suppose we'll be much better off once this Strider's done leading us halfway around the entire forest."

"Oh Merry!" Pippin laughed. "What a tale I have to tell you, though something tells me it isn't finished yet."

"Have you now?" Merry asked. "Well come on then, Pippin, don't keep your dear cousin waiting. What's this tale to do with?"

"A Lady," said Pippin. "One as beautiful as all the stars in the sky and fair as the moon as it shines on the Brandywine back home."

"Well I say," Merry breathed. "I certainly hope this Lady was not a dream of yours, Pip, or I should be terribly disappointed indeed."

"A dream she seemed indeed, Merry, but it was real as the trees around us," Pippin continued. "I saw her last night as the moonlight shone through the windows of the inn."

"Now I know it must have been a dream," Merry sighed.

"No I swear by it!" Pippin shook his head. "She is a Ranger friend of Strider's and I woke and heard them speaking in the doorway."

"A Lady Ranger?" Merry scoffed. "Your tales are wild as ever, my dear cousin."

"If you saw her would you believe me?" asked Pippin.

"I would," said Merry.

"Then you shall. For I feel it in my heart that I shall see her again and have the honour to learn her name, as Strider promised," Pippin was smiling.

"You dreamed up this tale very quickly indeed if you did not even name your Lady," Merry laughed.

"You will see," Pippin replied. "You will see."


	2. Under the Light of Isil

Chapter Two: Under the Light of Isil

Halbyn rode hard as Strider had instructed and indeed the Black Riders paid her no heed. By the end of the tenth day since setting out from Bree she had reached the Ford of Bruinen and urged her tired horse across the shimmering waters. On the east bank of the river was a tall golden-haired Elf who sat upon a valiant white steed: Glorfindel upon Asfaloth.

"Elf-friend," Glorfindel recognized her. "We saw you riding with great haste across the land. Tell me, where do you go to with such urgency?"

"To Rivendell, my friend," said Halbyn. "Strider sends word with me for Lord Elrond."

"Then ride with me, Lady of the Wild, and we will see him together," said Glorfindel.

And the two rode swiftly eastward to Rivendell and they were brought before Lord Elrond in the Great Hall. Halbyn bowed low to him and he nodded, acknowledging her presence. The three gathered around the huge fireplace in the room and she was given food and drink before pressed to speak.

"Now tell me, my friend, what news does the son of Arathorn send?" Elrond asked.

"My Lord Elrond," said Halbyn. "We have found the Halfling Ringbearer. He and his companions are under Strider's protection." Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged a look of relief. "But all is not well," Halbyn continued. "The Nine have been to Bree and follow the One closely. Strider sends me to beg for your aid, or they may never make it to Rivendell, for Gandalf did not meet them as he said he would."

Elrond sat back and thought for a moment. "Ill tidings indeed," he frowned. "For we have yet to hear word from Gandalf as well."

"My Lord," said Glorfindel. "Allow me to set out with three of our best hunters and we will scour the forest until we find them." Elrond nodded and with a bow Glorfindel left.

"I wish to search for them as well, my Lord," Halbyn said.

Elrond smiled kindly. "As I knew you would. But please, I bid you first take rest for you are weary from your journey."

Halbyn agreed (somewhat reluctantly) and was shown to a room where she slept comfortably until dusk. Then she awoke from a dreamless sleep and slipped from the room. She walked by moonlight through Rivendell and the city seemed to glow by the light of Isil. She went swiftly in the direction of the stables to re-saddle her horse but was stopped at the sound of a fair voice behind her.

"It took you ten days on horseback to reach this place, my friend, and you are a strong rider. Whither would you ride tonight - halfway back to Bree? For surely they have not come much farther than that."

Halbyn turned to behold Arwen Evenstar, Lady of Rivendell, standing with a look of concern on her beautiful face. For whom the concern was intended - Halbyn or Strider - was not clear.

Halbyn turned away from Arwen's gaze. "I cannot sit idly by while my master faces such danger. I must do all in my power to help him."

"It is just as I say," said Arwen. "You have not fully recovered from your hard journey and all your power of searching will not help them for three days hence at the very least." Halbyn looked at her again and Arwen walked toward her and took the Ranger's hands in hers. "We must have faith in Aragorn to keep them safe for that much longer until our aid can reach them. Until then you should take rest."

"You are right, my Lady, though I will be able to take no rest until they are safely arrived," said Halbyn. "I cannot help my loyalty to him. If anything were to happen to any of them, I would blame myself for leaving."

"He bade you come here and give word to my father," Arwen reminded her. "And now the power of my people will soon protect them. If you had stayed, you would all be in great peril and perhaps with no help on the way."

Halbyn nodded. "It is true. And I know he will make it here. He would brave the dungeons of Barad-dûr itself if he had to, especially if it were to return to you. Thus I come to another deed he bade me do, Lady Arwen. He sends tidings of love to you."

Arwen's smooth cheeks flushed slightly. "Do not speak of that place so openly," she warned. "Though I delight in hearing such tidings from my love." The moonlight sparkled in her enchanting eyes as she smiled. "Come now, I have just thought of a way to convince you to stay. We shall visit an old friend whom you have not seen in several years."

* * *

Elrond stood on a balcony overlooking the path on which the two women stood. The grave expression on his wise face did not waver as he watched them walk away for his thoughts dwelt on a dark problem: what has become of Gandalf? The wizard was very late and he had sent no message of explanation or warning. _Ill tidings indeed_.

If Gandalf was lost then surely all hope for the free peoples of Middle Earth was as well. He was their strongest power to counter that of the Enemy along with the other Istari, would it be possible to contact them in time. Gandalf had gone to consult with Saruman the White; could the Enemy be strong enough already to have destroyed them both? If this was so, and since most of Elrond's race had already gone over the Sea, they hadn't the strength or numbers to defeat the armies of the Nameless One.

Elrond turned his gaze to the Elven star Eärendil - the star that forever told the tale of his father. He silently prayed the wish of his heart that Gandalf would arrive safely, and soon.

* * *

"Hello, hello, my dear and my! aren't you all grown up now! Such a vision of beauty as I always knew you would be!"

Halbyn's cheeks flushed slightly at Bilbo Baggins's fawning. The old Hobbit had always been kind to her in her youth when Strider had brought her along on his journeys. The last time she'd seen him she had been still a child - a few years after he'd left the Shire for good. Now a woman of five and twenty years and Bilbo couldn't help but fuss over her as always like a proud uncle.

"Tell me what you have been up to, my dear Halbyn," Bilbo asked, sitting himself cross-legged on his bed with his hands clasped eagerly on his lap as he awaited her story - oh, how the old Hobbit loved hearing stories. "Come now, don't keep your old Uncle Bilbo waiting!"

Halbyn and Lady Arwen took seats on either side of Bilbo and the Ranger began to speak. "Since last I saw you, Strider has taught me much in the skills of our people. He showed me much of the land west of the Misty Mountains, and he allowed me to accompany him on his hunt for the creature Gollum, though I was quite young."

"Oh! such a wretched and pitiful thing, that Gollum, wouldn't you say?" Bilbo shuddered. "I don't ever mean to lay sight on him again if I can help it."

"Would you tell me again the story of your encounter with Gollum, Uncle Bilbo?" Halbyn asked.

"Oh no you don't young lady," Bilbo clicked his tongue at her. "There is plenty of time to hear my tales, but now is the time for yours. Tell me, what skills did Strider teach you?"

"He taught me to hunt like a wildcat and walk as quietly and softly as an Elf through the woods," she said. "He also taught me how to keep to the shadows and avoid the gaze of others. And to wield a sword and to shoot a bow - though I admit I much prefer the blade."

"As do I, dearest, as do I," Bilbo smiled. "So you are becoming quite the skilled warrior then, I see. Your father must be very proud."

"I have not seen him recently, Bilbo," Halbyn shook her head. "The past three years I have spent completely with Strider, honing my skills."

"Where were you last then?" he asked.

"In Bree," said Halbyn. "Awaiting the arrival of Gandalf and your nephew Frodo."

"Ah! my dear Frodo! How is he then? Did you see him? Did you speak to him? Seventeen years is a terribly long time for me not to have seen the dear boy, and I find myself missing him greatly," Bilbo said with a touch of regret staining his voice.

"I did not speak to him, but he looked quite well," she said, deciding not to tell Bilbo of the dangers closely following his beloved nephew. "Strider is with him and his three companions now."

"Three companions has he?" Bilbo smiled. "Such a well-liked lad, my Frodo, and I'd bet the rest of my dragon treasure that one of them is that young Samwise Gamgee. Delightful lad Samwise is - very attentive to my stories. I've known his old Gaffer for many years now, did you know? We're neighbours - or, well, we were. Sometimes I forget I've been gone so long," Bilbo sighed deeply and was lost in thought for a moment. Halbyn and Arwen exchanged a look of understanding between them and rose from the bed.

"You should rest now, dear Bilbo," Arwen smiled. "Collect your thoughts to put the finishing touches on your book. Wouldn't it be wonderful to have that ready for when Frodo arrives?"

"Yes, yes," Bilbo came out of his thoughts. "Always such a wise girl, my Lady. Wise and beautiful; not a wonder why he loves you so." And with that he curled up on his bed and fell asleep.

* * *

The next two days were extremely stressful for everyone in Rivendell, but more so for Halbyn and Arwen. For the two women, the waiting was torture in itself because it was still too early to really be any help. Halbyn spent much of her time with Bilbo, telling and listening to stories and hoping to keep her mind busy.

On the dawn of the third day a cry went up from the gates of Rivendell that brought everybody within earshot running. Halbyn, Arwen and Bilbo met up with each other on the main path and hurried together to the gates. There stood Lord Elrond and Glorfindel with a familiar old man dressed in a long grey cloak and hat.

"Gandalf!" Bilbo exclaimed and ran toward his friend. The wizard kneeled to embrace the Hobbit and smiled. "Gracious Gandalf, you certainly had everybody around here very worried for you!"

"I know, and I am quite sorry about that, my old friend," Gandalf smiled kindly, though his eyes reflected deep pain. "I will have quite the story to tell you if time allows for it."

"Wonderful!" said Bilbo, now rather excited.

"Gandalf and I have much to discuss," Elrond spoke in a voice for all to hear. "I want the fastest riders to leave immediately and find the Lord Aragorn and the four Halflings." Before any objections could be made, Halbyn and Arwen were running toward the stables. Glorfindel turned Asfaloth around and raced into the Wild.

Halbyn and Arwen rode side by side, silently combing the woods for any trace of anybody having passed through. Dusk came and soon the shining full moon was high in the night sky. The Elf and Ranger carefully navigated by its light and cringed as they heard distant eerie shrieks in the night. The horses reared in fright and the two women took a moment to settle their steeds.

"The Black Riders," Halbyn breathed.

"We must press on," Arwen said, clicking her tongue to urge her horse forward.

They found nothing that night and returned to Rivendell at midday for food and drink. While Halbyn rested, Arwen and Glorfindel discussed with the other Elves the most effective way to search the woods. At dusk the group rode out again fully prepared to stay in the woods until the Ringbearer had been found.

Arwen knelt in the brush inspecting a soft imprint in the plants - a bootprint. The horses were tied to a tree behind her and Halbyn was scouting ahead. The Elf traced the subtle outline tenderly. The print was made by a fairly large leather boot stepping very carefully as the owner scouted for danger. Arwen closed her eyes and tried to feel closer to her endangered love.

"Arwen?" The Elf smiled at the sound of Halbyn's voice. The girl was certainly learning much from Strider; she hadn't even heard her approach. "You should see this."

The Elf rose and the two women walked stealthily through the woods until Halbyn stopped and motioned to the forest floor. Arwen took in the scene: four padded down sections of brush perfectly sized for four sleeping Hobbits.

"Elessar must have scouted the area as the Halflings rested here," Arwen said.

"That is not all," Halbyn frowned. "All around this camp I have found harsh prints made by heavy metal boots and the nearby road is littered with deep hoof-prints. Come and see."

The Ranger led the way to the road and the two crouched in the tall grasses that bordered it. Before long hoof-beats could be heard from the east and soon three enormous black steeds came galloping into view. Halbyn held her breath as they stopped directly in front of them. She had seen them only from afar in Bree; never had she been this close to the Servants of Sauron.

The horses' hooves were sharp and shod with black steel. Their long ebony hairs were stained and dripping with sticky crimson blood. They snorted angrily their putrid breath and dug at the soft mud of the road. Their very essence smelled of death and decay and they licked at the air and clicked their teeth impatiently. Their red eyes burned in the darkness and sought that which their masters hunted. Halbyn felt her body chill as the nearest horse seemingly locked eyes with her and waited for her to move a single muscle so it could attack.

Halbyn swallowed and forced herself to break eye contact with the haunting sable beast. She let her eyes fall on the Rider of the closest horse: the Captain of the Nazgûl. She couldn't help her gaze be drawn to him; he had an overwhelming sense of power emanating from his very being. His armoured hands clutched at the reigns; the gauntlet's clawed fingers created a vice-like grip on the leather straps. His steel boots were set firmly in the stirrups, elevating him slightly out of the saddle as he peered into the woods. His long black robes hung around him and brushed the tips of the grass above the women's heads. Halbyn looked into the void of his hood, seeing no face there but unable to break away from staring. She became aware of a rough breathing coming from unseen nostrils and realized that he was sniffing - seeking them out. The Ranger closed her eyes, breaking the stare, and suddenly with an ear-piercing shriek the three Riders rode off, continuing west, and the women gasped for breath and noticed then their hands clasped to the hilts of their swords. They had not remembered doing so, having been transfixed by Witch-King: Lord of the Nazgûl.

Halbyn was first to move and Arwen was quick to follow and the two hurried back to where their horses quietly awaited their return. Arwen mounted her steed and then both women stopped, frozen in position, heads slightly cocked to one side, ears pointed south and east. The call came again: the sound of an exotic bird twittering at the glistening moon. It was barely audible for those who weren't listening for it - and to them it would seem nothing out of the ordinary. But to the Elf and the Ranger, that call meant everything.

Halbyn quickly mounted her horse and they rode as swiftly as they dared through the brush. The woods ended and they emerged again onto the muddy road - further east than where they'd seen the Nazgûl but they still rode with extreme caution. Halbyn's stomach tightened as her eyes searched the bushes on the south side of the road for any sign or signal of those they sought. Finally after what seemed like ages their patience was rewarded.

"Halbyn, Arwen, thank Elbereth," came a voice.

From out of the brush emerged Glorfindel and Strider, who motioned behind him - presumably telling the Hobbits to stay in the concealment of the darkness for the moment. Halbyn and Arwen dismounted and approached the two men.

"I worried that all were too far away to hear my call," Glorfindel said. "The situation is more complicated than expected."

* * *

Pippin nearly had to sit on the ground to keep himself from following Strider out onto the road. There she was, backlit by the shimmering moonlight: the Lady Ranger - his wonderful mystery. He wanted desperately to learn her name at that moment, but silently admitted, with some remorse, that there were much more important matters at hand.

"Why do you shake, cousin?" Merry came up behind him. "There's naught to worry about. Frodo will be okay now that more friends of Strider have found us. Or are you perhaps catching a chill?"

"No, no, Merry, that's not it at all!" Pippin beamed. "That's her! You see, I wasn't dreaming it all up! That's the Lady Ranger I spoke of - do you believe me now? Though I'm quite ashamed to admit I'd nearly forgotten about her in all this mess, but really I'd be quite ashamed had I been thinking of her instead of our poor Frodo, you see. It's all quite the muddled mess in my head but do you Merry? Do you believe me?"

Merry had managed to completely tune out Pippin's babbling save the final question, which he responded to with an entranced nod. "Her name, Pippin, what is it?"

"As I told you before, I do not know it. Strider says I should learn it from her lips only," the young Took crossed his arms imperiously.

"Then go ask her."

"What? Now?"

"Yes."

"Are you crazy?"

"Then I'll ask her."

"Don't you _dare_."

"Alright, alright, then go."

"Not right now."

"Oh, why not? You _want_ to learn her name, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do!"

"Well then?" Merry now crossed _his_ arms and tapped his bare foot, awaiting his cousin's reply.

Pippin twiddled his fingers nervously. "Strider told us to stay here," he offered as an excuse. Merry raised an eyebrow, and Pippin's cheeks flushed. "What would I say to her?"

"'May I ask you your name?' would be a start," Merry said.

"But are you certain now is an appropriate time, cousin?" Pippin asked, glancing back at where Frodo leaned heavily on the pack pony Bill, with Sam worriedly watching his best friend and Master in pain. "There are more important things than what I - _shhh_," he cut himself off and folded his hands behind his back as the two Rangers and two Elves passed by him and Merry into the woods toward Frodo. Merry elbowed him but Pippin just glowered at him and caught Strider's amused smirk as the Ranger noticed the Hobbit's obvious indecision.

"I will ask her after they tend to Frodo," Pippin decided.

"You had better," Merry said.


	3. Spurred to Action

Chapter Three: Spurred to Action

The company of eight moved on through the woods for the rest of the night. Halbyn was put in point position followed by Pippin and Merry, then Glorfindel, then Frodo upon the valiant Asfaloth with Sam walking beside him, then finally the Lady Arwen and Strider leading the two other horses.

The Hobbits had been quite breathtaken when they set eyes on the legendary Lady Arwen of Rivendell - all but Pippin, who had eyes for only one lady that night and had needed to force the smile from his face as Strider moved him in line behind the Lady Ranger. He watched her every smooth silent step, her flowing green cape, and the dark strands of hair that peeked out from around her hood. His awe-struck gaze was interrupted periodically by nudges in the small of his back and Pippin would turn and shoot a dirty look in Merry's direction.

"Go on - ask her!" Merry whispered with a grin on his face.

"No!" Pippin hissed back. "She has to concentrate on where she's going. And besides, we shouldn't be talking, really - what if those Black Riders hear us?"

"If you keep making silly excuses, I really _am_ going to ask her for you," Merry said.

"You will do no such thing," Pippin's voice was beginning to rise.

"Do not speak so loudly, Halfling," Glorfindel said from behind Merry. "We don't know how closely we are being followed, and there are other foul creatures in this forest. Would you like to learn first hand why this wood is known as the Trollshaws?"

Pippin fell silent, remembering Bilbo's stories of the place. He glared at Merry, then turned back to face front and caught the Lady glancing backward with an amused smile. Pippin's face reddened as he realized she'd been listening but his heart also leaped in his chest. "She smiled at me," he thought.

Halbyn turned to once again face front and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She was suddenly disappointed in herself – such a serious situation in which one mistake could cost all their lives and she was busy enjoying the attention from the little Hobbit.

The Ranger whistled and stopped walking, and the rest of the line did the same. She peered out between the trees and squinted at the morning sun that was peeking up over the horizon. This was where the woods ended. The rest of the way to the Ford of Bruinen - the border of Elvish lands - was over open land with very few trees for cover. As she waited for Strider to join her for his advice, she couldn't help but peer over her shoulder at the young Hobbit.

Pippin looked around, suddenly wondering where the Black Riders were and whether they were watching them right now and waiting for the right moment to attack. Merry saw the opportunity with his cousin's attention diverted and pushed the Took toward the Ranger. Pippin stumbled forward, tripped over a mess of brambly roots and fell to his hands and knees beside her, and then turned with a horrified look back at Merry. The Brandybuck mouthed words of encouragement to his cousin and Pippin scrambled quickly to his feet. He felt more than a little flustered when he saw her looking at him.

"Are you alright?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Um, yes, thank you," he answered quickly, feeling a lump catching in his throat. "W-what exactly is going on?"

"Our cover of the forest ends here," she said. "If the plains are being watched, which I fear they are, we may not be able to continue as we have been."

"What are we going to do?" Pippin asked.

Before she could reply, Strider joined them. "We have reached the plains?"

"Yes, and I was hoping you would have a plan as to how we should proceed," she said.

"We need to rest for a while, as it were," said Strider. "Frodo is feeling quite weak from the movement and needs some time to recover."

"I will scout the area, then," she nodded and silently disappeared into the bushes.

Strider turned his attention down to the Hobbit at his side. Pippin was looking to where she had last been and he wore a disheartened expression on his face. The Ranger lowered himself to Pippin's height. "She is beautiful, is she not?" Pippin nodded. "I am sorry you couldn't have longer to talk just now, but worry not my friend. The opportunity to properly speak with her will arise, I am sure of it. Keep your head up and your eyes and ears open."

* * *

Arwen sat next to Frodo in the soft grass of the clearing. The Hobbit was leaning against her shoulder and his breathing was becoming labored. Sam sat cross-legged in front of her watching him with wide worried eyes.

"Is Mister Frodo going to be okay? Only I'm a mite worried since his wound seems so strange to me," he said. "By my judgment I'd say it's nearly all healed up but still he's sick and losing strength, though I'll admit I'm not so learned in things like this."

The Elf smiled kindly at him. "You're quite right, Sam. His wound is not at all ordinary. The Darkness is upon him. Fear not, for if we can get him to Rivendell and into my father's care, he will be alright. Didn't Strider tend to Frodo?"

"Aye M'Lady. He bade me seek out some Kingsfoil, though I've never known that weed to be anything more than a nuisance," Sam said. "Strider seemed to think it mighty useful, though."

"You see? We have already bought ourselves some time with that treatment," she told him, then looked up as Strider approached with Merry and Pippin following, quietly chattering to each other. She carefully laid Frodo on the grass and stood to meet her love. "Where is-"

Strider, seeing Pippin paying attention, put one finger softly to her lips, stopping her before she could say the Ranger's name, and smiled. "She has gone to scout the area." Arwen followed his gaze to the young Hobbit and understood with a twinkle in her eye.

"So has Glorfindel," she said. "But I'm worried for Frodo. He is fading quickly. I do not know how much longer he will last. We _must_ get to Rivendell."

"I know. Frodo's condition has never left my mind," Strider nodded. "I fear the Nazgûl can now sense his presence as well as the Ring's and are following an even stronger trail. Unfortunately getting to Rivendell poses a problem. We no longer have the cover of the woods or the night."

"And we cannot outrun the Riders as we are," Arwen understood. "But all paths to choose are dangerous. What do you propose we do?"

"I cannot decide until the others return," Strider frowned. "Perhaps they have found some clue as to which path we should take."

As if on cue, Glorfindel entered the clearing from the west and Halbyn from the southwest.

"I came across the same Three Arwen and I saw last night," Halbyn said. "Still sniffing around the road, though they are making their way back East."

"And I spied two more wandering the woods where we'd been not an hour ago," Glorfindel said.

"That makes at least five Wraiths behind us," Arwen frowned.

"Yes, and for all we know the other four could be waiting ahead of us," Strider said. "But we have no choice but to move quickly. We _must_ get Frodo to Rivendell." He stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to decipher a way to go about doing this task. Arwen took hold of his hand and the two moved away, speaking softly together in Elvish.

Halbyn let her eyes wander and noticed the youngest Hobbit again watching her quietly. She smiled reassuringly, and then felt a small tug at her cloak. She turned to face the larger Hobbit who was looking up at her with troubled eyes.

"'Scuse me, Miss, but I'm afraid I couldn't help but overhear Mister Frodo's name in your discussion," he said.

"Aye, Sam's a professional eavesdropper, he is," the third Hobbit said with a laugh.

"Don't you be bringing that up again, Merry Brandybuck, or I'll have your hide right now," Sam clenched his little hands. "I feel terrible as it were, me spying on Mister Frodo like that. Weren't right, I knows that much, but you put me up to it, the both of you!"

"Keep your voice down," Halbyn urged, and Sam turned red up to the ears.

"Begging your pardon, Miss," he said. "But what I were going to ask was what Strider was saying about Frodo?"

She knelt down. "That we must get him to Rivendell before it is too late."

"How much time do we have?" Merry asked, suddenly serious.

Halbyn shook her head. "I'm not certain. I've never seen the effects of the Black Breath before, but I'll be honest. With how Strider and Arwen are talking, I don't think we have very long."

Pippin opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a harsh "_Shhh_!" from Glorfindel, who held his hand in the air. All eyes turned to the tall blond Elf as he stood perfectly still and listened intently to the sounds on the wind. "Fly!" he called after a moment, a look of horror on his face. "Fly! The enemy is upon us!"

Asfaloth whinnied loudly and Glorfindel quickly scooped Frodo from the ground and sat him on the great white steed. No sooner had he done so than there came the thundering sounds of hoof-beats and a not-so-distant scream. Suddenly through the trees sprang a Black Rider on his snarling, snapping horse and he was soon joined by four more Wraiths.

Halbyn, who was closest to the creatures, drew her sword and yelled to the three Hobbits, "Get behind me!" They complied, and she stood defiantly before the Lord of the Nazgûl.

"Stand down, Ranger," Witch-King hissed.

"You'll have to kill me first," she replied.

"Done," the Ringwraith cackled with his bone-chilling, deadly voice.

The five Nazgûl raised their swords but hesitated as the Ranger was joined by three others: another Ranger and two Elves, all with drawn blades.

"Ride forward!" Glorfindel cried to Frodo. "Ride!"

Frodo could do no such thing, however. His bloodshot eyes were transfixed on the Wraith, an unseen power drawing him to it. The Servants of Sauron laughed cruelly and brought their blades down, but they were blocked and parried by the four warriors. Glorfindel became desperate and called to the horse in Elvish, "_Noro_ _lim_, Asfaloth! _Noro_ _lim_!"

Immediately the beast broke into a full gallop eastward through the wood and leaped onto the open plain. The Nazgûl screamed and broke away from their fight, preparing to give chase. Strider and Glorfindel barred the way, stalling them just long enough for Halbyn and Arwen to mount their horses and race after Frodo.

As they emerged from the trees, they could already see the remaining four Wraiths in pursuit of the Hobbit on the white horse. Hearing the desperate cries from their mistresses, the two horses pressed on as hard as they could manage, and soon caught up to the Black Riders. They clashed their blades against those of the Nazgûl in hopes of slowing them down enough for Frodo to reach the Ford of Bruinen. The Riders were determined in their quest however, and weren't about to let a mere Ranger and Elf stop them.

Halbyn rode in close again, aiming to stab the nearest Wraith's horse and cripple it. The Wraith was ready, and cut hard in her direction. Halbyn's horse jumped to the side, but reared in fright as the sable horse snapped at him. Halbyn was thrown painfully to the ground and the Wraith rode on.

By now the Five from the woods had closed the gap and rode up behind Arwen, surrounding the Elf. She pulled her horse to a stop as they came around in front of her and cut her off. As the six stood at a standstill, Arwen knew she could not fight them all by herself. She quickly took in the scene around her: Halbyn pushing herself to her feet a ways to the right, and Frodo was just reaching the water's edge. The Hobbit cried something in a surprisingly loud voice as Asfaloth crossed the river and it was enough to take back the Wraiths' attention and allow Arwen to gallop away to where Halbyn stood. The two women turned their attention to Frodo.

"Go back!" Frodo yelled at the Nazgûl. "Go back to the Land of Mordor, and follow me no more!" The Wraiths laughed and mocked him, calling him to them. "By Elbereth and Lúthien the Fair!" Frodo cried again, resisting them. He raised his short sword from the Barrow-downs into the air. "You shall have neither the Ring nor me!"

The Wraiths seemed unfazed by his words, and moved to advance across the river. Frodo dropped his sword and Halbyn began to run. "Frodo!" she screamed as the Wraiths entered the water. "Hold on, Frodo!"

There was a deep rumbling from the northeast and the ground began to shake. Halbyn stopped running and turned her attention to the river, as did Arwen and the Nine who were all now up to their horses' flanks in the Bruinin. The water level began to steadily rise and the rumbling grew louder. Suddenly the river itself rose up into a great tidal wave and swept downstream. At the frothing peaks there formed a host of galloping white horses charging the Black Riders. A madness overtook the crimson-eyed beasts and they would not obey their masters as the Nazgûl tried to escape the waters. A final savage screech was heard before all Nine were crashed down upon by the wall of water and swept away.

Halbyn and Arwen looked to the eastern shore and beheld the Lord Elrond and Gandalf the Grey standing beside the great white steed, whose rider had lost consciousness. The women raced to their side.

"It is over, for now," Elrond said.

* * *

Night fell over Rivendell and Halbyn stood on one of the many glowing pathways. The skillful Lord Elrond had managed to successfully remove a broken piece of the Morgul blade that had lodged itself inside Frodo and was making its way toward his heart. Halbyn stood just outside of the room where the Hobbit now lay sleeping. Elrond and Gandalf were talking quietly nearby, and next to Frodo's bed sat Sam Gamgee asleep in a tiny chair. His head rested on the bed and his hand clasped his master's tightly. Strider and Arwen had gone off by themselves, and the other two Hobbits were in their own room.

Halbyn quietly turned and peered into the room, watching Frodo's chest rise and fall with every gentle breath. He was not expected to awaken for several days. The Ranger drew back her dark green hood and entered the room, slowly approaching the bed. Sam stirred in his sleep and groggily opened his eyes to see who was there. Halbyn put a finger to her lips and Sam, seeing that it was a friend, fell back into his slumber. The Ranger smiled softly and brushed his curly hair with her fingers. She had known Sam for less than two days total and already felt a deep respect for his dedication to friendship. It was a rare and wonderful thing to have someone so loyal.

"I hope you aren't feeling responsible," Gandalf's voice said from behind her. "There was nothing you could do to prevent this fate."

"So everyone keeps telling me," Halbyn said without turning around. "Though I am not so sure."

Gandalf clapped a comforting hand on her slender shoulder. "You did your part, my dear. Let it go." He lowered his face beside hers. "It could have been much worse."

She smiled appreciatively then turned and embraced the old wizard warmly. "I'm glad you're here, Gandalf. I think most people had all but given up hope before you arrived."

"Hope is still something we have on our side, though I cannot say for how much longer," Gandalf said. "For some it is all we have left. It is something of which you must never let go."

"I understand," she nodded. "But I rely more on my skills than on hope."

"There may come a time when that will change," replied Gandalf.

"Perhaps," the Ranger shrugged, not wanting to consider a situation where her skills would be of no use. "But with any luck that will not be for some time yet. I will need all my skills to be sharp for the dangerous journey ahead of me."

"Ah yes, I had heard rumours that you meant to depart for the mountains of Ered Nimrais before dawn," he said. "These hold some truth, then?"

"It is where the rest of our people were headed when Strider and I parted ways with them," she nodded. "Though it was a long time ago and they may have gone back to the Ered Luin, I think it is the best place to begin looking so I may meet up with them again. Strider thinks they may have news of the Dark Lord's goings-on in Gondor, and I so dearly miss my father."

"Then I wish you good luck, and take great care as you pass the Gap of Rohan. It is no longer safe to tread carelessly so near Isengard."

"I will remember."

* * *

"What in the world are you sulking for?" Merry demanded of his cousin. "You should be out looking for her! Why do you insist on putting it off?"

"Why do _you_ insist on badgering me?" Pippin snapped back at him. "For your information I've a lot on my mind at the moment."

Merry couldn't help but laugh. "_You_? Have a lot on your mind? At least you haven't lost your sense of humour, Pip."

"Oh shut up."

"All right now, let's not get grumpy," Merry sat down on the bed beside Pippin, who sat with his head in his hands. "Certainly you've gotten interrupted every time you've tried to talk to her thus far, but we can blame that on Strider and Sam, yes?" Pippin shrugged. "Of course we can. But now, Frodo is safe and sleeping, as is Sam, and Strider is off somewhere with his Lady Elf. Those Black Riders have been taken care of, and we're protected by the entire strength of Rivendell. What better chance to go and talk to her?"

Pippin thought for a moment, then lifted his head from his hands. "Do you know, Merry, I quite believe you're right! And why shouldn't I talk to her? She did smile at me, after all."

"There you are, Pip! That's the spirit!"

"I'll go right now too!" the Took jumped to his feet.

"Well, yes, you'd have to," Merry said. "I've heard that she's leaving tonight."

Pippin whirled around. "_What_?"

"Well goodness sakes, Pip, instead of moping and daydreaming you should try listening and learning," Merry said. "When you're our size you can quite often get away with eavesdropping."

"I've got to find her!" Pippin shouted and bolted from the room. Merry jumped up and followed quickly as he could. The two Hobbits ran as fast as they could though the glowing city until they spied the Ranger leading her horse out of the stables and toward the city gates some hundred yards away. "This way!" Pippin said and ran off. Just as Merry was about to do the same he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder and turned to meet Strider's gaze.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Strider put a finger to his lips and watched Pippin closing the gap between him and his friend. "This is Pippin's quest," he said. "He must go alone."

"But what am I to do then?" Merry frowned. "I should go along to see that he doesn't back out!"

"I believe that you shall have your own quest in the near future, my friend," Strider said. "But for now you must stay back and let Pippin do what he must."

* * *

"My Lady!" Pippin cried as he raced toward the gates of Rivendell. "Please stop so that I may have a moment of your time!"

Halbyn turned and watched curiously as the little Hobbit ran toward her. When he reached the place where she stood he stopped and hurriedly tried to catch his breath.

"Why do you have me wait?" she asked. "Has something happened?"

"I have a question for you," he replied.

"You may ask me anything," she said.

"First I wish to know where you are riding to."

"To Gondor to find the rest of my people. Strider sends me to learn the activities of the Dark Lord in that land."

"But," Pippin hesitated. "Will I ever see you again?"

She knelt down. "I have learned well never to doubt what our hearts tell us. What does yours now say to you?"

Pippin paused and looked into her grey eyes. "Yes."

"Then you shall."

"I come to my next question then," Pippin continued. "I would know your name, my Lady, so that I may properly address you upon our next meeting."

The Ranger smiled warmly at his boldness. "And it would please you to learn this?"

"More than anything," the Hobbit nodded.

"Then I shall tell you," she said. "I have been called many names, though certainly not as many as our friend Strider, but my name in Westron is Halbyn."

"Halbyn," he repeated quietly.

"And what should I call you upon our next meeting?" she asked.

"My name is Peregrin Took, but everyone calls me Pippin and it suits me just fine."

"Well then, Master Pippin, until we meet again," she clapped her right hand over her breast. "Be safe."

"And you," he nodded and she mounted her horse and rode off as the grey light of the near-dawn bathed the sky.


	4. Another Victim of the Black Breath

Chapter Four: Another Victim of the Black Breath

Halbyn returned to the crude camp she had set up after quickly scouting the area. Her horse stood with a watchful eye staring out into the night. As far as they knew they had not been followed, but one can never say just how many eyes are watching when darkness falls.

The Ranger stroked the horse's nose and checked that he had enough food, and then took a seat on the soft ground and began to build a fire.

She had been traveling for three weeks and was now within a day's ride from the Gap of Rohan. Over the past several days she had noticed evidence of increased orc activity in the area. Gandalf's warning to travel cautiously near Isengard was weighing heavily on her mind, and as she neared the vicinity of the tower of Orthanc she wondered at the possibility of meeting an orc patrol somewhere down the road.

She piled some wood on the now-burning fire and listened carefully to the sounds in the night. There was distant howling but more distinct was the rustling in the dry grass to the north. Halbyn wished that she could claim it as the wind but for the undeniable sound of metal lightly scraping against rock - a sword held too low to the ground as the owner crouched in the shadows in hopes of an ambush. She guessed it was a sentry orc scouting the area.

Halbyn looked to her horse whose ears were pricked in the direction of the noise. His wet black eyes searched the darkness then fell back on his master, pleading that they flee. He was loyal and should trouble arise he would stay with her to the end, but he was no fool and much preferred escape than being outnumbered in the night. And the Ranger knew he was right.

She quickly put out the fire by throwing dirt over top then leaped upon her steed. "_Noro_ _lim_, Lumbulë," she whispered to the Númenorean steed named with the Elvish word for shadow for his grace and stealth, and the two flew south at a considerable pace.

* * *

Gandalf, Aragorn and the Hobbits were now embarked on their quest to Mordor to destroy the One Ring of Power and newly with them were Legolas Greenleaf, an Elf of Mirkwood, Gimli son of Gloin, a stout-hearted Dwarf, and Boromir, son of Denethor the Steward of Gondor. The Nine Companions were currently following the Misty Mountains south to the Gap of Rohan and at the moment had decided to break for a quick lunch.

Merry took a bite of a tomato and watched Pippin who had that far-away look in his eyes again. "Don't tell me you're thinking of her again," the Brandybuck said with his mouth full.

"Wouldn't you?" said Pippin.

"It's been three weeks since last you saw her," Merry argued, swallowing his food. "Can you not think of anything better to do with your free time than daydream?"

"There's naught better than to think of my Lady fair," Pippin retorted.

"Blimey, you've got it bad," Merry shook his head, stuffing a bite of sausage into his mouth. "You're sounding like a right fool."

"It's not foolish to think of the girl who fancies you."

"Oh, right, so she fancies you now, does she?" Merry scoffed. "All she's done, far as I can remember, is tell you her name."

"And ask for mine," Pippin grinned.

"Oh well, you're halfway to hearing wedding bells then," Merry rolled his eyes.

"What are you two chattering about?" Frodo sat down beside his two cousins.

"Naught important, I reckon," Sam muttered as he took a seat as well.

"Frodo," Pippin said ignoring Sam. "Do you think it's foolish to think of the Lady you fancy?"

"Of course not," Frodo shook his head. "Why, Bilbo used to tell stories of great knights who found the strength to keep fighting just to live to see their Lady love again."

"Now that's just rubbish," Sam shrugged. "In the midst of a fierce battle no knight would find the time to think of some pretty Lady."

"Oh right, Sam, we'll be sure to tell Rosie Cotton you never thought of her once this whole time," Pippin winked and Sam turned bright red. "Ah, there, you see? 'Tis the Lady's love that dwells topmost in this and all fellows' hearts and that's how it'll stay."

"Right, that's it," Merry said after stuffing the last of his meal in his mouth and brushing his hands on his shirt. "I've got a way to get your mind off her, Pip." He took hold of his cousin's hand and dragged him over to where Boromir and Aragorn were sitting. "'Scuse my intrusion, but Pip and I would like it very much if one of you would properly teach us to use these here swords. We would like to be useful should the time come when our blades should taste orc hide."

The Men laughed and Boromir stood up. "I would be honoured to teach you the art of swordfighting, lads," he said.

So Aragorn, Frodo and Sam found it greatly amusing to watch the two younger Hobbits learn to strike and parry with the tall man of Gondor. Frodo suddenly had a devious idea to test his cousin's concentration and whispered it to Strider, who smiled broadly. As Boromir began to quicken the pace, the Ranger called, "Halbyn! My friend!"

Pippin immediately forgot what he was doing and turned to see where the female Ranger was, letting the flat of Boromir's blade slap painfully across his fingers.

"Ouch!" the Hobbit cried, dropping his sword and shaking his throbbing hand in the air. Boromir quickly tried to apologize but Pippin angrily kicked him in the shin. Merry saw his cousin's distress and charged the man, catching him off-balance and knocking him over. Their anger dissipated and, to their audience's amusement, they proceeded to wrestle the now-laughing Boromir to the ground with Pippin shouting, "For the Shire!"

The fun was quickly over however as Boromir sat up to see something that Legolas and Gandalf had spotted in the distance. Before Pippin knew what was happening he was being urged to hide and no sooner had he and Merry taken cover than a great flock of raven-coloured birds flapped and screeched overhead.

"I hope old Gandalf knows what he's doing," Merry whispered. "If we're hiding from a bunch of birds, what's going to happen when we run into a pack of orcs?"

"We'll fight," Pippin said, remembering what Frodo had said about the strength to fight to live to see his Lady again.

* * *

She had ridden harder than intended and it was still night when Halbyn reached the Gap of Rohan. Dark clouds cloaked the moon and the land loomed in shadows before her. She hadn't wanted to take this route in the darkness but it was now too dangerous to stop anywhere for camp and she had to press on.

Halbyn carefully urged Lumbulë forward not wanting to make any unnecessary noise and it was not long before a trio of low grunting voices could be heard. Holding her breath, Halbyn quietly dismounted and crept toward the sound. In a clearing around a blazing fire sat three huge orc-like creatures, though they were far larger than any orcs she had ever encountered. Halbyn guessed them to be the orc-men Gandalf had warned that Saruman was breeding in Isengard. The three creatures were ravenously tearing at a half-cooked mass of flesh that turned over the flames.

"We've rallied the Moria rats," one creature, clearly the leader, rasped. "They'll be expecting the Ringbearer when he arrives and Saruman says the wizard Gandalf will be with him."

"So what?" snapped the second. "That monster at Khazad-dûm will take care of him."

"I don't see why we're letting a pack of goblin scum handle them," the third growled. "Not when the fighting Uruk-Hai are much more suited to the job."

"It doesn't matter what you think," the leader said. "Our orders are to wait and keep up patrols. Should any of them escape Moria, they are expected to follow the Anduin and that is where we will find them and bring the Halflings back to Saruman. There will be no escape from the Army of the White Hand."

The three Uruks chortled together and began muttering in a form of Orcish. Halbyn frowned in thought; she had to get back and warn the others of the ambush waiting in Moria. She waited a moment to see if anything more would be said, but the great orcs were now engrossed in devouring the foul-smelling carcass.

A soft whinny cut through the silence of the night and the three huge Uruk-Hai looked up. Halbyn's stomach tightened; Lumbulë would not have made a sound without reason. There was some form of danger behind her, and now because of that noise there was danger before her as well.

The first Uruk stood up and peered into the darkness. He grunted something to the other two and all three picked up their weapons and began to smell around the campsite for the intruder.

Halbyn slowly backed up but stopped as she heard footsteps behind her. She felt a shiver run up her spine and turned to behold the most terrifying sight she could have imagined: the nine horseless Nazgûl. Their jagged swords were drawn and venomous hissing came from their shadowy hoods.

"We meet again, she-Ranger," Witch-King said.

"You followed me?" Halbyn asked.

"Do not flatter yourself, mortal," the Nazgûl said. "This is an unexpected but welcome surprise. We can now finish what we began in the forest glade but I see no friends of yours to help you this time."

Halbyn drew her sword and, hearing a noise behind her, thrust it in that direction. "Maybe not," she said as she slew one of the Uruk-Hai who had been trying to take her by surprise, "but I've got a few tricks of my own yet." She parried an angry strike from the Witch-King then dodged a powerful slash from the lead Uruk. In one brief moment she took in her surroundings and assessed her situation: eleven-on-one was certainly not the best odds.

Moving quickly, she struck a blow down on the Uruk-Hai leader's raised sword and kicked him backward into his companion. She brought her thumb and forefinger to her mouth and whistled shrilly then attacked again. She clashed swords with the lead Uruk again and both locked their arms in a battle of strength. The man-orc saw his advantage in this contest and redirected his strength to bring her toward him and then toss her backward with all of his power.

Halbyn flew backward trying desperately to keep her feet and crashed into something sturdy. She cringed at a brand new pain in her side and looked down to see the deadly sword of Witch-King protruding from just under her rib cage; she had stumbled backward onto his blade. The Nine screeched with laughter and the Lord of the Nazgûl withdrew his sword and pushed her to the ground.

Her hand went to her side and was quickly covered in sticky red blood. She blinked as the world began to spin around her and knew she did not have long before she lost consciousness. Hearing close hoof-beats, she summoned all of her strength to stand, raise her sword and spin-slice the second Uruk-Hai's head clean off.

The Nazgûl screamed and she spat into the void of Witch-King's hood then hauled herself into the saddle of Lumbulë as he trotted by. The eight other Nazgûl readied to follow but their Lord held out his hand. The Black Breath was upon her now and it would be more satisfying for her to suffer and die slowly and painfully. And in the unlikely event that she managed to survive, she would provide all the more useful.

* * *

Four days and four nights passed as Lumbulë carried Halbyn onward north along the eastern extent of the Misty Mountains. They were ignored as they passed by Isengard; the orcs obviously had better things to do than bother with a dying Ranger. Halbyn was barely conscious as they passed through the outskirts of Fanghorn Forest and she swore she could feel it watching her, though it could very well have been the delirium.

As the sun rose on the fifth day they emerged from Fanghorn and back onto the plains. The world was beginning to fade from her sight; the colours blurred and the sun hurt her eyes. She knew she did not have much longer but so strong was her loyalty to Strider that she forced herself to hold out long enough to somehow warn him. She tied the reigns to her arms with what little strength and coordination she had left and abruptly blacked out. Her body slipped from the saddle but the reigns held and Lumbulë continued on, carefully dragging her near-lifeless body.

* * *

Halbyn's bloodshot eyes snapped open in shock and she began to panic, unable to recognize where she was. Several more days had passed during her fevered sleep and they had now reached the border of the woods of Lothlórien. As Lumbulë had pulled her through the Nimrodel River the icy mountain waters had shocked her body enough to bring her back to the light, however briefly.

The Ranger looked back and forth as her fevered mind tried to process the location and finally recognized the silver pillars of the great trees of Lórien. The Darkness was fast returning to her and Halbyn's head dropped. As Lumbulë continued to walk the Ranger's lips moved in a pleading prayer to the Lady of the Golden Wood.

"Oh, Galadriel," she mumbled. "Wisest and fairest of your entire noble race. I pray thee…protect me; hold off this Darkness from my mind until I may find…my companions. Sauron's shadow stretches farther than…all have hoped and I must warn Aragorn of the dangers in…Moria. I need...your...help..."

And then she blacked out.

* * *

Pippin clutched at his aching stomach with one hand and roughly wiped away the tears that streamed down his face with the other. He couldn't believe – no, he _refused_ to believe what he had just witnessed and tried not to think of Gandalf as he plummeted into the dark deep void of Khazad-dûm. His stomach lurched again and he fell to his knees as he began to cry again.

"Keep on your feet, Pippin," Aragorn said. "We must keep moving."

Pippin felt someone lift him from under the arms and turned to see Merry's tear-stained face. His cousin clapped him on the shoulder and walked beside him for a-ways. Pippin could not remember a time when Merry was not there for him no matter what the situation and he dared not think of what it would be like should he ever lose him...as they had lost Gandalf.

His chest tightened and for a moment Pippin hated Strider for being so calm and pushing them forward as though nothing had happened. They had lost their great leader and, true, Gandalf had never been especially kind to Pippin, but he considered him a friend none-the-less.

The youngest Hobbit looked to Frodo who walked with a stone face and wet eyes. To him, Gandalf had been so much more than a leader or friend. In Gandalf Frodo had found a mentor, a trusted protector, and perhaps (along with Bilbo) the father figure he'd lost at so young an age.

Pippin left Merry's side to move to Frodo and put a reassuring hand on his elder cousin's shoulder. Frodo turned his head and forced a half-smile - the first change in facial expression since the caves of Moria.

The Company continued on in almost complete silence with Aragorn now and again speaking with Boromir, Legolas and Gimli. They had gone two days since they left Moria following the Silverlode as it changed from its tiny mountain spring to a rushing icy river. Now as the sky began to turn pink and mauve as the sun crept behind the Misty Mountains in the West, Aragorn signaled for them to stop for the night.

Pippin began to wander mindlessly down the shore of the Silverlode, ignoring Aragorn's warning not to stray to far. The Ranger frowned when he received no acknowledgement of his words and crouched beside Merry.

"Keep an eye on him, Merry," he said. "I fear his mind is not where it should be and he will not see danger until he finds himself face-to-face with it."

"I will keep him safe," Merry nodded and trotted off after his cousin.

"Are you certain we should stop here?" Legolas said to Aragorn. "There is no sufficient cover nearby and the orcs of Moria cannot be far behind."

"It is not the orcs I am worried about," Aragorn said, watching Merry run off after Pippin. "We must rest. I trust our safety to the power of Lothlórien now."

* * *

Pippin stared into the moonlit river and let his mind drift. He remembered the terror of the cave troll and how frightened he had been when Frodo was thought to be dead. He could see the burning hatred in the eyes of the hundreds of orcs that had chased them through Moria. He could still feel the sheer horror of the Balrog as it had cornered them at Khazad-dûm. And now, in the shimmering Silverlode he could see Gandalf's face, and threw a rock into the water, shattering the image into a thousand tiny ripples.

"Hullo, Pip," Merry said behind him. Pippin gave no response so Merry put his hand on his shoulder, but Pippin shook it off. "I know you're upset. We all are. Gandalf was...a wonderful friend."

"It's not just that," Pippin said. "I've been thinking, Merry, and I don't believe I really knew what to expect on this quest. Only with what's happened now do I realize the awful possibilities at stake.

"You see, I thought this to be a grand adventure, like the ones old Bilbo would tell us about. Do you remember, Merry, how we would go exploring down the Brandywine as children after one of Bilbo's stories? And the first time we made it all the way to Bree, we thought it meant we were real adventurers. Certainly it was nothing like Bilbo's quest through Mirkwood to find that Smaug but it was bold for us.

"This adventure has been quite a lot more than those outings of ours, no mistaking that. Of course I realized the danger what with those Black Riders and all, but I thought that was all over when we got to Rivendell. Plus we have great warriors like Boromir and Strider with us instead of a bunch of Dwarfs like Bilbo had. And, well I have you with me for company and Frodo and even old Sam and, well, I didn't expect nobody to die, Merry. Not old Gandalf."

They sat quietly together for some time until Pippin spoke again.

"It seems funny to think that only a few days ago the only care I had was when I should meet Halbyn again. I cannot help but wonder now if I shall even survive long enough to see that day."

"Don't talk like that, Pip," said Merry. "Of course you'll see her again. Now you know I've heard many stories in my life and if I remember my gossip rightly, it just so happens that I know this forest we're headed to is Lothlórien and there lives the great Elf-Witch. I've heard it said that she grants wishes to worthy adventurers."

"I thought she just puts spells on travelers who enter the forest and makes them become lost in the Golden Wood forever," Pippin replied skeptically.

"Well, that too, but what's the harm in wishing?" Merry grinned. "Maybe she'll think you're worthy of it."

"How do I do it then?"

"Well, I don't know, Pip! I've never tried it, have I?"

"But I thought you knew all these stories!"

"They _are_ only stories after all, because nobody dares go in there, do they?" Merry argued. "But how hard can wishing be? Here, wish into her river, maybe it'll carry it to her."

"Right then," Pippin leaned close to the icy water. "I wish to see the Ranger Halbyn again."

"There now, easy as that," Merry said. "But I think we'd best be getting back. Strider's a might worried 'bout getting separated."

"All right," Pippin nodded and took a step toward the camp and then stopped. "Merry?"

"What?"

"Do you hear that?"

Merry listened. "Hear what?"

Pippin slowly drew his sword. "Someone's coming. I can hear footsteps on the rocks."

"Oh, there, yes I hear it," Merry said. "It's probably nothing; just the wind scattering small stones and bits of twigs about."

"But something's down-right peculiar about it," Pippin shook his head. "Almost like _hoof-beats_." He started south toward the sound.

"Pippin!" Merry whisper-yelled through his teeth, suddenly worried it could be orcs. "Come back! Let's get Strider!"

"No, Merry!" Pippin shouted. "I can see what's coming! It's a horse - _her_ horse! I could recognize it anywhere!" And he began to run to meet the beast with Merry close behind.


	5. The Power of Love

Chapter Five: The Power of Love

The two young Hobbits ran along the dry rocky ground and Lumbulë quickened his pace, recognizing them as friends. He whinnied frantically as he reached them and the smaller one grabbed at his reigns.

"Where is she?" he demanded. "You ride alone but where is your Mistress?"

Lumbulë turned and tugged at the reigns, leading them southward about a hundred yards. There he had left the crumpled form that was Halbyn when her knots had finally loosened and she had fallen free. He had gone on in search of help at the sound of faint voices and the sight of a distant flame - signs of a camp.

Pippin ran to her side and put his ear to her chest. Merry joined him. "Is she-?"

"She's alive," Pippin said. "But her heartbeat is so soft I can barely make it out. She needs help, Merry!" He looked down at her and clasped her hand in his and as he did so he felt a strange tingle go through his body. "Be strong, my Lady. We'll help you."

"Go to that fire, there!" Merry ordered the horse. "That is our camp, and there you will find Strider. He will know what to do! Now go!" And Lumbulë galloped off toward the distant light.

* * *

"What's taking them so long?" Aragorn muttered to himself as he poked at the fire.

Frodo looked up at him. "Are you worried for Merry and Pippin?" he asked. "Has something happened, Aragorn?"

"I don't know, Frodo," he admitted. "But I have a bad feeling. For many days now it has weighed upon my mind and I am not calmed knowing those two are wandering the night."

"I also have felt this weight, though for not as long and perhaps not as strongly as you have, Aragorn," Legolas frowned, peering out into the darkness.

"The night has eyes," Gimli agreed. "I'd wager my honour that the Elf-Witch is watching us."

"If I knew this was so then perhaps I could finally rest, Gimli, but-" Aragorn cut himself off suddenly and looked to the south as did Legolas. Boromir stood up, recognizing the sign of possible danger.

"What is it, Strider?" Sam asked. "Is it orcs? Have they followed us?"

"I'm not sure, Sam," the Ranger said. "But something _is_ coming."

"Get behind me, young Hobbits," Boromir instructed. "Aragorn, we _must_ find Merry and Pippin."

"Wait!" Legolas said. "'Tis a horse that comes this way, and there's naught an orc from Moria to Cirith Ungol that rides such a beast."

"You're right; I see him now, and he is a horse I know well," Aragorn smiled. "It is Lumbulë - Halbyn's horse - I would recognize him anywhere."

"He is alone..." Boromir noted.

"Oh no," Aragorn ran toward the approaching steed with Boromir and Legolas close behind. "What's happened? Where is she; where's Halbyn?" he demanded. Lumbulë whinnied frantically and Aragorn turned to Boromir and Legolas. "Boil water and crush the remaining _athelas_ leaves. I fear the worst." Then he leapt onto the horse's back and galloped south.

* * *

Until a few moments ago, Halbyn had been alone and surrounded by the overwhelming Darkness that had clouded her mind. Now she could sense the presence of another and though she could not see him, she knew him to be a friend.

"Pippin..."

Pippin's head snapped down to look at her. He wasn't sure if he had been imagining her voice or not. He looked up again at Merry, whose eyes were wide and confused. Both looked quickly back down at the Ranger. "Halbyn?" Pippin asked nervously.

"Don't...leave..." her mouth still moved yet her voice was so soft the Hobbits could not make out the words. Then she was still again. The sound of hoof-beats could be heard closing in from the north.

"What did she say?" Merry asked in wonder.

"I don't rightly understand it, Merry," Pippin admitted. "But I've the strangest feeling come over me that I mustn't-"

"Merry! Pippin!" Strider's voice rang out. He nearly jumped off Lumbulë as the horse was still in full gallop and ran to where the Hobbits sat with the fallen Ranger. "What happened to her?"

"Her horse found us by the river and led us here to her," Merry said.

"Her breath is so soft, Strider, and her hands are cold to the touch," said Pippin. "It would seem to me that she is just as Frodo was after that Black Rider stabbed him."

Aragorn kneeled down and felt for Halbyn's pulse on her neck. "Your instincts are true, Pippin. The Black Breath is indeed upon her. We must get her back to the camp before it is too late for her." Aragorn moved to lift his friend into his arms to place her in Lumbulë's saddle, but Pippin did not release his grip on her hand. "Pippin?"

"I'm frightfully sorry, Strider, but I just can't let her go," the youngest Hobbit said.

"Now is not the time for this," Aragorn scolded him. "You can see her when she's safe."

"I don't mean it like that!" Pippin tried to explain. "It's just I had the strangest feeling come over me when I took her hand in mine like it were something powerfully important, and just now before you got here I think she was trying to tell me not to leave her. I don't understand how, Strider, but I think if I let her go, she won't make it."

Aragorn looked with concern at Pippin; the Hobbit's eyes were pleading and the Ranger's keen senses detected that there may be some truth in what he'd claimed. Aragorn was no fool and knew that whether he believed him or not, Halbyn had little time to live. If the Halfling's touch was truly buying her extra time, then it should not be wasted.

"Ride on ahead with her, Pippin," Aragorn decided and helped the grateful Hobbit into the saddle with Halbyn. "Don't let her fall and tell Legolas and Boromir to cut away the cloth from her wound, but to then wait for my return. I have been trained to treat such an injury. Now, go! I shall be there shortly!" He slapped Lumbulë's flank and the horse sped back toward the distant campfire.

* * *

Legolas hadn't moved since Aragorn rode off, keeping his sharp eyes trained in the same direction to be ready for whatever would happen next. Boromir seemed restless as he had set the pot of water to boil and then had begun pacing, continually drawing his sword halfway from its scabbard and then replacing it. Sam turned to Frodo.

"Strider said it were Halbyn's horse that were here but if I remember rightly she left Rivendell a good few days before we did - near a week even, and on horseback at that. Don't seem right that she's not farther on ahead than us, but perhaps my memory doesn't serve me proper," he said.

"No, Sam," Frodo said. "You're quite right about the time because she left before I awoke. There were several days passed between then and when we left."

"Then something's gone quite wrong, no mistaking that, though I can't say I'm surprised with all these stinking orcs and what-have-you running about!" Sam frowned.

"You seem to know her well enough, young Hobbits," Gimli said as he sat with them. "Who is this lass that Aragorn rushes off to find?"

"She is Strider's close and trusted friend and he trained her himself to be a Ranger," Frodo replied.

"A woman Ranger?" Boromir scoffed. "I've never heard such nonsense."

"It's true - I swear on my old Gaffer's head it's true!" Sam retorted. "I saw her in the Trollshaws when she helped us fend off them Black Riders from my poor sick Master. She was watching him in Rivendell - I caught a glimpse of her then - and the way Pippin tells it she were with Strider looking to protect us in Bree."

"They speak the truth, Boromir, for Aragorn has mentioned her to me before though I have never met her," Legolas said. "If she is as skilled as he boasts I think we shall all be quite impressed."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Boromir replied. "Reputation does not weigh actual ability."

Gimli turned back to Sam. "What did you mean when you said 'they way Pippin tells it'?" he asked.

"Oh, that," Sam rolled his eyes.

Frodo smiled and his eyes twinkled with silent laughter. "My cousin quite fancies her."

"I see," Gimli chuckled.

Legolas's keen ears had heard but his amused smile vanished as he saw the horse returning at a full gallop carrying Pippin and one whom he did not recognize, but he could sense the Darkness upon her even at this distance. His stomach dropped and he turned to the others.

"On your feet, my friends, for it is certain that something terrible has happened," he told them. "Boromir, I shall need your assistance."

"For what?" the man of Gondor asked.

"I feel the Dark Lord's influence so strongly now," Legolas furrowed his eyebrows. "We must take great care in what we are about to do."

"And what, may I ask, is that?"

Before Legolas could reply Pippin's distinct voice rang out in the night about the sound of the hoof-beats: "Help! I need your help!"

"What's happened to her?" Frodo asked as he and Sam hurried to where Legolas and Boromir were helping Pippin and Halbyn off the horse.

"It's the same what happened to you, Frodo," Pippin explained and then proceeded to relay Aragorn's instructions, adding that he mustn't let go of Halbyn's hand. Legolas checked the water in the pot that was close to boiling and then watched as Boromir and Frodo helped Pippin bring the Ranger near the fire. The Elf studied her closely and his sharp senses detected a power on her even greater than the Blackness that held her in its icy grip. It was a power that felt strangely familiar and Legolas looked at Pippin - the Hobbit's face was twisted with worry. The Elf noted how tightly Pippin gripped the girl's hand, then looked in the direction of the Golden Wood of Lothlórien and smiled knowingly.

Legolas's acute hearing picked up the sound of footsteps as Aragorn and Merry raced toward them. "Is she all right?" the Ranger asked.

"She will be," Legolas said, standing up.

Aragorn looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "You sense something as well, my friend?"

"Aye, there is a force greater than any of us were at work," the Elf replied. "I expect everything will be made clear in time."

The pair said nothing more on the subject as Sam handed Strider the remaining _athelas_. Aragorn quickly crushed the dried leaves and sprinkled them into the boiling water. Boromir and Gimli drew away from the wound Halbyn's blood-soaked cloak and jerkin and Aragorn poured the elixir onto the exposed flesh.

Halbyn gasped and began to spasm at the shock of the magical medicine but Boromir and Pippin held her as still as they could. Her grey eyes were wild and beads of sweat shone on her pale face as Aragorn poured the elixir into her open mouth. The spasms stopped but she remained ghostly white as she again lost consciousness.

* * *

Aragorn sat quietly by the fire and thoughtfully poked at the glowing embers with a piece of driftwood from the stream. Boromir had sat up with him for a while but had turned in some time ago, and Legolas - though he did not sleep - had gone walking along the water's edge. The Elf had been feeling something important on his mind the closer they came to Lothlórien.

Aragorn turned to look where Halbyn slept beside him, and next to her Pippin was sound asleep, his hand still clasped to hers. The Ranger's face softened as he realized his respect for the Hobbit's devotion to her. Whether it was truly any help or not, Pippin refused to give up and let Halbyn go simply because he _believed_ that somehow he was saving her. And that very idea was what now bothered Strider.

"What are you thinking?" Frodo had softly come up behind Aragorn and the Ranger hadn't heard the near-inaudible Hobbit-steps over his thoughts.

"How could there not have been any other option than to just give up?" Strider asked without turning around. "He saved all our lives and we couldn't even save him."

"Gandalf," Frodo understood and Strider nodded. The Hobbit sat down next to his friend.

"I just wonder if we gave up too easily," Aragorn continued. "Is it truly possible to complete our task without Gandalf?"

"Gandalf told us to run; he had faith in your strength and no doubt in your ability to lead us through this mission to the end.

"Back at Bag End, when I was just finding out what a mess we were all in, I told Gandalf that I wished none of this had happened to me. And he said that I weren't meant to decide such things but to decide what to do with the time given to me. I think what he meant was that we have to do the very best we can no matter what happens."

Aragorn looked kindly at the Hobbit. "And something Gandalf told me many years ago, Frodo, was that even when you think you have Hobbits figured out, they can still surprise you. You are wise beyond your years, Master Baggins."

The pair turned to the sound of Halbyn stirring in her sleep and smiled as she opened her eyes. "Welcome back, my friend," said Aragorn.

* * *

Legolas had returned to the campsite and joined Frodo and Aragorn around the fire as Halbyn recounted the tale of her journey to the Gap of Rohan and the encounter with the man-orcs and the Nazgûl.

"After that it is mostly shadow," she said. "I remember the feeling of being watched by the Fanghorn forest and the cold of the Nimrodel river. But most of what I can remember is the pain and the Darkness; it was like a set of icy talons creeping toward me."

Aragorn rubbed his beard ominously. "It is a wonder you survived at all, my friend," he said.

"A miracle," Frodo agreed.

"I think not," Legolas shook his head. "You said you felt the cold of the Nimrodel?" Halbyn nodded. "Then there is at least answer to part of your riddle; those waters are on sacred land and are more than meets the eye. What happened next?"

"I prayed to the Lady of the Golden Wood for protection and the next thing I remember is Pippin and his friend crouched over me," she continued, glancing at the youngest Hobbit that still slept soundly. "The Darkness kept me from staying awake, but somehow I could sense Pippin's thoughts in my mind." She turned to Aragorn. "How could this be so?"

"It is no coincidence, that I can assure you," Aragorn said. "I am sure that it has much to do with his refusal to leave your side since the moment he found you, but I feel that she who heard your prayer can answer your question more completely than I."

* * *

The night went on for many more long hours and Aragorn insisted that Halbyn sleep and recover her strength as much as possible. Frodo had been eager to speak with her longer and learn more of her stories, but the notion of a good night's sleep was impossible for the Hobbit to pass up; he knew he would not get many more where he was headed.

When the sun's first light flooded the sky on the eastern horizon, Halbyn and Aragorn were already awake and discussing the situation. Strider had just recounted the story of Gandalf's defeat.

"I wondered at his absence," Halbyn said. "I thought it certain that he would lead the mission, whatever the Council decided, but I have been taught well enough never to question Gandalf's decisions."

"As have I, though I now wonder if even this rule had an exception," Aragorn replied. "Either way, what is done is done and should not be dwelled upon, for we must remain focused for the challenges that lie ahead." The two sat quietly for a moment, watching as the fire died down and the members of the Fellowship slowly began to awaken. Legolas stirred from his spot across the fire where he sat in deep concentration. "I want you to stay in Lothlórien when we get there," Aragorn said finally to Halbyn.

"But-"

"No arguments," he interrupted. "You are strong, and I feel no shame for taking pride in training you so well - in fact, I doubt that many other people could have survived under the Black Breath as long as you did, and they certainly would not have awakened so quickly. But you are not yet strong enough to travel further. The Elves will see that you heal properly."

"All right," she said with a disappointed sigh.

"Do not misinterpret, my friend," Aragorn smiled kindly. "It is not that I do not want you there, but should I need your help in the near future you must be fully recovered. The servants of the Dark Lord will sense the weakness inside you."

"I understand," she said. "I just won't feel right sitting back and letting you face the danger alone."

"I will not be alone," he reminded her. "But do not worry - there will be plenty danger left for you." Halbyn chuckled at the remark, then winced and held her side. "In the meantime, enjoy the rest while you can get it. Besides, there are other matters that require your attention." He motioned to where Pippin was rubbing the last remains of sleep from his bright blue eyes, then stood up and joined Boromir by the supplies.

"Good morning," she said. "Did you sleep well?"

Pippin started at the sound of her voice and turned to her in disbelief. "H-Halbyn? You're awake!"

"Thanks to you, so I have been told."

The Hobbit turned a bright shade of red. "It was Strider that knew how to help you. I didn't do ought special."

"He told me what you did for me and that you stayed with me even when there was little hope," she said. "For that, my brave friend, I owe you thanks, and perhaps my life."


	6. The Truth in Lothlórien

Chapter Six: The Truth in Lothlórien

Travel was slow that day as the group continued on their way to Lothlórien. Halbyn could not yet walk under her own power and therefore rode slowly upon Lumbulë. Frodo's ribs still ached from the encounter with the cave troll, and the gash on Sam's head from the same battle throbbed, though he would never complain. Aragorn's anxiety was obvious, but he was understanding and led the group at an easy pace.

By dusk they had reached the border of the Golden Wood and were intercepted by a band of Galadrim led by Haldir and his brothers, Rúmil and Orophin. The three Elves agreed to take them to see the Lady Galadriel (though they were none to happy about letting a Dwarf into Lothlórien), and set them ready for the night up high in the silver-barked trees for fear that they had been followed by the orcs of Moria.

Lumbulë was unable to pass through the forest, however, and, with the little strength she had, Halbyn turned him back into the Wild with instructions to watch for her when she should need her old friend's help again. Aragorn supported her on his shoulder until they were finally able to rest high in the treetops.

Pippin sat up for a while after Merry, Frodo, and Sam had already fallen asleep and thought back on the events of the past two days. Gandalf was gone, the Black Riders had returned, and there were giant man-orcs lying in wait for the Fellowship to cross paths with them. But (somehow) all of this did not seem to matter when Pippin's thoughts were on the dark-haired, grey-eyed woman that now slept on the flet in the nearest _mellyrn_ tree; so near and yet too far away for the youngest Hobbit's liking.

* * *

Aragorn regarded his friend with concern; it had taken a great deal of assistance to get Halbyn up the tree and onto the flet that was to be their bed for the night, and now she was quite out of breath and held her side in obvious pain. She was now sitting against a strong bough of the silver tree with her teeth clenched and her eyes shut tight, concentrating on controlling her breathing.

"Try to think of something else, my friend," he urged her.

"Easy to say," she said.

Aragorn smiled. "Did I ever tell you how Lothlórien came to be?" Halbyn shook her head. "I will keep to the shortened version as best as I can, for we both know how wordy the Elves can be should I go into their detailed style of relating history." Halbyn managed a soft chuckle at Aragorn's gentle humour, prompting him to continue. "After the Wars of Beleriand at the end of the First Age, Galadriel was banned from ever returning to Valinor. After wedding Celeborn in Doriath she gave birth to Celebrían."

"Arwen's mother," Halbyn recognized.

"Yes. After Doriath fell to the Dwarves of Nogrod over the Silmaril, Galadriel fled and soon after created Laurelindórinan - The Land of the Valley of Singing Gold - in the image of Doriath. The name was later changed to Lothlórien - Dreamland. This land is where she and Celeborn now rule.

"Galadriel is the keeper of Nenya - one of the Three. With this great aid Lórien is kept safe from the Enemy, for so great is the White Lady's power that she knows the Dark Lord's mind but he cannot see into hers. Only the Nameless One himself could rival her protective power on this place" Strider sat back. "Lothlórien is a sanctuary and the only place still full of beauty east of the Misty Mountains."

"Not so, Aragorn," Boromir shook his head. "For the White City of Minas Tirith still stands beauteous in the hearts of Men of Gondor."

Aragorn nodded, acknowledging the warrior's pride for his home. Halbyn smiled as she turned to regard Boromir and then coughed from the pain of the movement of her ribs. Aragorn carefully wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she nestled into the comforting embrace of her mentor.

* * *

Halbyn awoke suddenly to strange noises in the night. She shifted and immediately felt Aragorn's arm tighten around her shoulders.

"Shh," he whispered.

"You hear it as well?" she asked quietly.

"Our pursuers from Moria," he said. "Orcs have never been known to mind where they tread. However, it is not them that I worry about, even as they violate this sacred land with their blasphemous presence."

"I hear it too," Halbyn said. "There is a low muttering, and sniffing and hissing as well. It is seemingly Dark and yet obviously not orcish."

Legolas silently shifted to where the two Rangers sat, careful not to wake Boromir and Gimli. "It is unlike anything I have heard before."

"Obviously our quest has interested more than just the Dark Lord," Aragorn said.

"Or perhaps more-so the Ringbearer himself than the Quest," Legolas said. "I hear our mysterious creature at the base of the tree housing the Hobbits' flet."

"Frodo," Aragorn breathed.

"Pippin," Halbyn's voice was barely audible, but that was enough.

Aragorn looked at her for a moment but his attention was stolen by a curious shuffling on the forest floor. Not long after, Haldir poked his head through the hole in the centre of the flet.

"You've nothing to fear; the orcs have passed without knowledge of your whereabouts," he said. "Orophin has gone on ahead to warn our people of their intrusion. Rest assured not a single accursed one will escape this realm alive."

"Was there something else other than orcs on our path?" Aragorn asked.

"There was," Haldir nodded. "A creature unknown to us but certainly a threat. It climbed halfway up the bare tree to the Hobbits' flet but fled as I came near. I thought at first it was one of the Hobbits had it not been for its pale glowing eyes."

Aragorn furrowed his eyebrows and fell silent after exchanging a serious look with Halbyn. Noting their reactions, Legolas thanked Haldir, who left after a wary glance at Gimli.

"What is it?" Legolas asked.

Aragorn now knew all too well the creature's identity after Haldir's description - he'd spent thirteen years intermittently searching for Gollum at Gandalf's request, and did not easily forget a face. Halbyn knew as well, for Aragorn had taken her with him on several of those vast countryside searches when she was younger. If Gollum was following Frodo's scent, that meant he was out to reclaim what he believed to be his property. And Gollum was not one to be taken lightly.

"As we come ever closer to Mordor the dangers become greater and greater," Aragorn said, not revealing the creature's identity. "This sneaky fellow could be more trouble than we know. I don't think we should let Frodo out of our sight when we leave the sanctity of Lothlórien."

Legolas nodded and then turned his head upward, gazing at the stars, falling into deep thought. Aragorn turned to Halbyn. "You worry for him?"

"Frodo has been through so much already," she said. "Though I have not known him long, I do worry for him."

"You know I did not mean Frodo," he said.

She turned her grey eyes to look into his. "I do not yet understand the reasoning, but I do know that when I awoke to the presence of danger tonight, my first thoughts were concerning Pippin." She sighed softly in confusion. "My hope is that Lady Galadriel can clarify my feelings for me."

Aragorn smiled. "I have no doubt that she can and will, but you must remember, my friend, that the heart does not often follow reason. Perhaps the simplest answer is the right one."

* * *

The sun rose over the golden canopy of Lórien and Haldir and Rúmil awakened their guests. The traveling was not easy-going, especially when it came to crossing the Silverlode. The two guides constructed a simple rope bridge used by the Galadrim with the help of one of their sentries posted on the opposite side of the river. Most crossed with a minimal degree of difficulty, but it was nearly impossible for Halbyn to keep her balance on it. Aragorn and Boromir supported her weight between them, each with an arm around her waist and clutching the rope on the opposite side, and told her to concentrate on keeping her footing. One false move and all three would plunge into the icy water.

The journey did not get any easier from there as the time had come for Gimli's eyes to be blindfolded at Haldir's insistence - Dwarves were not permitted to see the land. Gimli, not caring whether it was the law or not, had taken the demand as a personal insult and had refused to cooperate. It was only after Aragorn had diplomatically decided that they should all be blindfolded (including Legolas) had Gimli been content.

Having had both her sight and strength taken from her, Halbyn became frustrated with her total helplessness. The ongoing rough walking was more than she could handle, even with Aragorn half-carrying her, but she refused to ask to stop. Aragorn listened to her labored breathing and his worry deepened. He knew that the _athelas_ with which he'd treated her was only a temporary painkiller. Like Frodo, Halbyn needed healing with proper resources that the Elves were certain to possess, and she needed it _soon_.

When word was finally sent from Galadriel herself that the blindfolds should be removed, Aragorn looked at his friend and saw the pain in her eyes. His heart ached.

* * *

It was much later when Pippin was finally able to find a moment to again speak with Halbyn. After arriving in Caras Galadhon the woman Ranger had been taken immediately for treatment by skilled healers and the Company had gone to meet with Galadriel and Celeborn. The Hobbits had been taken by the White Lady's charm and beauty (though perhaps not so much as Gimli had been) but still Pippin counted the minutes until he could see Halbyn again.

After consulting some of the Galadrim healers, Pippin was able to discover where in the great city Halbyn was staying. He was told that when they had taken her she was nearly lost to the shadows and she would need much time to recover. For the next week and a half Pippin would periodically peek into her room and watch her sleep.

Finally the day came when he peered into her room and saw her awake but speaking with Aragorn. Recognizing that the two Rangers probably had much to talk about, Pippin (more than a little disappointed) turned to leave.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Aragorn asked Halbyn. She had opened her grey eyes as he entered the room, having just been resting.

"Exhausted," she said. "How long was I asleep?"

"Eleven days," he replied and sat down next to her bed. "I'm going to be honest with you. There was a moment when I did not think you were going to make it to Caras Galadhon. Even with your strength I could see you were fading quickly. The _athelas_ I gave you could not hold back the poison much longer."

She looked away. "I thought you might say that. When blindfolded I could hear the world becoming quieter and more far away. Soon I had to strain even to hear you breathing next to me. When the blindfold was removed, the sunlight was painful. Never have I been more frightened in my life."

Aragorn nodded. No matter how powerful Elvish healing was, there were effects of the Black Breath that were permanent. Halbyn would probably never be able to feel the sun upon her again without first feeling pain.

"I must now ask you to remember all that you can, my friend," Aragorn continued, "down to every last detail of the night you were attacked. We must know our situation as fully as possible."

Halbyn closed her eyes in concentration. "I was forced to reach the Gap of Rohan ahead of schedule due to the possibility of being followed."

"By whom?"

"Orcs, I guessed - I heard sounds of scraping metal on rock - I wonder if it is possible that the Wraiths were all along herding me into a trap. The Lord of the Nazgûl denied following me, however." At the mention of Witch-King she paused, feeling a sharp pain in her side. "I couldn't stop at the Gap while it was still night so I went on and that's when I came across the man-orcs I told you about. They called themselves the Uruk-Hai and matched the description Gandalf gave of the man-orcs at Isengard. They are under Saruman's command, just as he said.

"And there is more to this. The Uruks knew you were headed to Moria and Gandalf's fall was no accident. The monster at Khazad-dûm is in alliance with the Dark Lord. They knew your path then and they know you plan to follow the Anduin when you leave Lórien."

Aragorn sensed deeper distress under her words. "What else did they say?"

"That their orders are to take the Halflings to Saruman," she said.

"Most likely because he does not know which the Ringbearer is," Aragorn said. "Now all of the Hobbits are targets."

"It is not as though I wish Frodo, Merry or Sam to be in danger," Halbyn said slowly.

"I understand."

She looked up at him. "How can all this be happening, Aragorn?"

"That is out of our control and, at the moment, something we do not have to worry about," Aragorn said. "We are safe here. Now is the time for rest and recovery. I shall take what you have told me and consult the others. You have been a great help, my friend." He noticed a slight movement at the door. "And now there are matters that call for your attention, if you feel strong enough?"

* * *

Pippin jumped in surprise as a strong hand gripped his shoulder as he turned to go from Halbyn's doorway. He looked up at Aragorn's stern face.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Master Took?" he asked.

Pippin's jaw dropped and he tried to think of why he would be in trouble for being outside Halbyn's room. Aragorn had seen him watching her over the last week and a half, and he had never disapproved of the young Hobbit's fascination with his friend before - in fact quite the opposite. "Uh...I..."

Aragorn smiled and his eyes twinkled with mischievous laughter. "Go and see her. She is awake."

Pippin watched in exasperation as Aragorn went on his way, then turned back to the room and quietly walked inside. He felt nervous about actually being able to speak to her with nobody else around. "I-I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake again," he told Halbyn. "I was rightly worried about you back in those woods."

"Thankfully that is over now," she said. "But there is something I must ask you."

Pippin gulped. "Yes?"

"Did you feel it as well? When you and Merry found me, did you sense the," she paused in search of the right word, "power? Something that was obviously changed but, in the same way, was meant to happen?"

Pippin's eyes were wide. "I _did_ feel it," he said. "I thought it sounded a mite silly, but when I took your hand it felt as though you and I were-"

"One," she finished his sentence for him.

_It is more than just a feeling_, the enchanting voice echoed softly in their minds. _You know it to be the truth. And it can be your salvation, or your undoing, depending on what the future holds._

"Queen Galadriel," Halbyn knew the voice. "Aragorn said I should ask you for the truth. How much can you tell us?"

A shimmering form appeared in the doorway; her radiant blue eyes seemed to pierce both their gazes at once. Her flowing blonde curls spilled from underneath the white silk hood of her gown and her body was framed in a warm golden glow. The White Lady of Lothlórien was a striking and omnipotent presence.

"Everything," she said. "The true question, however, is whether or not you need to know."

"Pardon my saying so, Your Majesty," Pippin said after taking a deep breath, "but I believe we do need to know just what's happened. I don't rightly understand much of the horrible things what's been happening to Frodo and poor old Gandalf and Gimli's family in Moria and, well even old Sam took a right walloping in those caves! But what I do know is how I feel about the Lady Halbyn and that it's something more important than one might guess."

Galadriel's gaze locked with the Hobbit's for a seemingly endless moment, and Pippin began to squirm with discomfort. He wondered whether he had insulted the Queen and was near panic before the White Lady finally spoke. "There is great wisdom beneath the simple words of this Halfling. But does Halbyn feel the same way?"

Halbyn looked the Elf straight in the eyes. "I need to know as well."

"Then you shall both learn the truth," Galadriel smiled, pleased that they had passed the test. "I must start the tale from the very beginning. Halbyn, though I had not met you before this visit, I had heard for many years of the young girl Aragorn was personally training. Much of this was through my granddaughter, Arwen, who considers you to be a close friend."

"And I would not hesitate to stand by her, no matter what odds we would face," the Ranger said.

Galadriel nodded in approval. "This is why I knew you could be trusted, and that you would be strong when the time for war arrived. Word has reached us here from Rivendell of Saruman's betrayal and we recognize that we must hold true to what alliances the Free Peoples still have.

"When I heard your dying prayer - words laced with the spirit of the Silverlode but stained with the accursed Black Breath - I searched all of Middle Earth for the means by which to save your life. Hope lay within the purest heart and most innocent soul I have ever encountered, belonging to Peregrin Took of the Shire. To save your life, I gave you part of his."

"That's what I felt when I took your hand!" Pippin turned to Halbyn. "Somehow I knew that if I let you go, you would die."

"Indeed, she would have," Galadriel said. "For I could not have kept your spirits together without your physical touch. Now they are forever linked. This is no mere earthly arrangement but of a much higher power. It is both a gift and a curse, for your souls are symbiotic and will not know peace when they are apart. This will be the pain you shall live with the rest of your lives and I foresee many restless years without peace that cannot be helped."

The room fell quiet and the White Lady slipped from their presence as suddenly and silently as she had arrived.


	7. Many Departures

Chapter Seven: Many Departures

A month had passed, the Fellowship had fully recovered, and Aragorn knew it was time to continue the Quest. After the ceremony during which Galadriel presented each of the Company with a cherished gift, the Ranger slipped off to bid farewell to his dear friend.

"I worry for you," Halbyn said. She was completely healed now and stood before him, dressed in her green cloak and tunic of the Rangers. "Why do you not let me come with you?"

"You are not ready."

"I am healed!" she protested, pulling aside the piece of cloth that covered the scar on her side.

"Here, perhaps," he touched the scar, then moved his hand and touched her forehead. "But here? I think not. Do you truly believe you could face that which so nearly destroyed you?" She hung her head in defeat and he lifted her chin to look into her eyes. "Your path now lies down a different way than mine, though I know they shall cross again. You are needed elsewhere and it shall be known to you. The road to Mordor is not yours to travel."

"I understand," she said. "But I still worry for you."

He smiled. "And I for you. I have no other students, after all." He stepped back and clasped his fist over his breast and she did the same. "Until our next meeting."

"Be safe."

* * *

The four Hobbits sat in their room packing their few belongings for the continuing journey ahead. Frodo and Pippin both went about their chore absent-mindedly, their thoughts dwelling elsewhere, causing Sam and Merry to exchange a look of concern. Merry walked up behind the two and put an arm around each of their shoulders.

"Good afternoon, dear cousins! I was just wondering if you would like to be joining Sam and me back in the real world?" he asked.

"Huh?" Frodo and Pippin answered simultaneously.

"What has gotten into you two?" Merry asked.

"The both of you have been right out of your heads all mornin' and no mistake," Sam agreed, though he was more worried for his Master than he was for the young Took.

"Oh, I am sorry," Frodo apologized. "I just have so much on my mind." He'd been remembering the Lady Galadriel's haunting words after he'd looking into her great mirror: _To bear a ring of power is to be alone_. Would he really have to travel the black road to Mordor on his own? _Could_ he make it on his own?

"Rightly so! You've much to think about, Mister Frodo," Sam said.

"Aye, but what of this one here?" Merry ruffled Pippin's curly hair. "We've scarce seen head or tail of him between his visits to his fair Ranger Lady and still he mopes about."

"For now I must leave her," Pippin replied.

"I fear the power of this place has affected you, cousin, and you've gone quite soft on me," Merry said.

"'Tis not so much the forest but the power of she that I first saw in Bree," Pippin grinned.

"Oh, so now you're a poet," Merry punched him on the shoulder.

"I'll be right back," Pippin dashed from the room, very nearly colliding with Aragorn as he came around the corner.

"Where is he off to in such a hurry?" the Ranger asked.

"Where else?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"The lad has lost all little sense he had in his head," Merry said. "All his thoughts are for your friend and he babbles her name in his dreams."

"Ah, to love such a woman, eh boys?" Aragorn winked at them.

"I assure you, Strider, I've many a young, buxom maiden anxiously awaiting my return to the Shire," Merry ran his fingers through his blond curls. "And old Sam here, he's got the fair Rosie Cotton, and then Frodo, well, Frodo has a splendid little Hobbit hole back in Buckland," he laughed.

"How did I get brought into this?" Frodo laughed as well. It felt good to smile even for a moment.

"All right, you three," Aragorn was serious again. "Be certain you've everything packed. We leave at sundown."

* * *

"I do not want to go."

"And I do not want to stay, but I have faith in Aragorn's words, as you should."

Pippin pouted. "It isn't fair. We've only just now had a proper chance to learn about each other and now it's time to be off again."

"But who are we to steal this precious time for ourselves? I should never forgive myself were I to sway the fate of Middle Earth to befit mine own selfish fortune, no matter what the cause," Halbyn said. They were walking along the banks of a lush grotto in the heart of the forest. "Look here," she waved her hand across the scenery, "what do you see?"

Pippin took a moment to regard the view. "I see a waterfall and many silver-skinned trees," he replied, not sure of her meaning.

"But do you see the stream that feeds this waterfall? Do you see the forest of which each tree is a part?" She regarded him softly. "Every decision we make affects the course of all life. I have devoted mine to serving my lord Aragorn, as my family as done for his line all this Age, and to bringing about the end of the Dark Lord's reign, even at the cost of my heart's wishes."

"And I've pledged my loyalty to the Fellowship, as it were," Pippin nodded. "And to them I must stay true."

"And so we part until this war has run its course. Then perhaps we will be free to relate our tales in as much detail as we should like."

* * *

Halbyn stood two steps behind Galadriel and Celeborn on the riverbank among several more Galadrim, including Haldir, and watched the Company begin their departure from the Golden Wood. They sailed on the sparkling river in the cleverly crafted silver boats of Lórien. Halbyn cast a smile at Pippin but found her thoughts turned toward Aragorn and she kept her eyes on him as his figure disappeared in the distance.

"What is it you fear, child?"

Halbyn was brought out of her thoughts by the clear, melodic voice; she hadn't noticed Galadriel looking at her. The Elf-Queen's bright blue eyes studied the young Ranger so deeply that Halbyn knew that she would know were she to lie.

"Facing the world without him," she said.

Galadriel motioned for the Ranger to walk with her. "Elessar is a great man and destined to become greater," she said. "He will need much strength to face what lies ahead, and from his companions he shall draw that strength. He fears losing you as you fear losing him. However," the White Lady stopped walking and again turned her shining eyes on Halbyn, "I sense there is much more to this fear."

"I do not believe that is so."

Galadriel kept her eyes locked with Halbyn's for several moments and the Ranger found she could not look away. She held her breath as she heard the Elf-Queen's voice in her head. _Within your mind lies much trouble. Your heart and soul are separated. Your soul is forever with the youngest Halfling, as I said before, but your heart is true to the one who raised you and taught you who you are._

"Thus is your peril, young Ranger, for both shall claim your loyalty and your love but there can be no compromise between them," Galadriel was speaking again. "Whatever you choose shall bring you great pain and longing for that which you left."

* * *

Galadriel gazed deeply into the shimmering silver basin that held the clear water from the nearby stream and watched as the images swirled and spilled together in a medley of colours and emotions. She saw the towers of Orthanc and Barad-dûr and felt the great evils residing there. She heard the cries of war and watched the clashing of swords and the dark red blood shed upon the land before a great white city bathed in roaring flames. She heard the screams of the Nazgûl and watched the Nine force back the army of Gondor. Then, as many times before, overtaking all the other images she saw the great Eye burning in the Darkness.

Then the images changed and she no longer felt great pain and suffering but light and hope and she beheld Gwaihir the Winglord soaring gloriously through the sky and in his talons he carried a familiar form - one for whom Galadriel had sent the Lord of the Eagles to search.

The White Lady smiled and turned from the mirror, sending for a troop of Galadrim. "Go now to the edge of the wood," she said. "He is returned."

* * *

Halbyn did not know how many days had gone by since the Company's departure from Lórien, for the timeless woods seemed to exist beyond the passing of the sun in the sky. It felt like an eternity had gone by since she had been left behind, when really it had only been a couple days. Each morning she would kneel at the foot of Cerin Amroth where Aragorn and Arwen had plighted their troth so many years ago, even before her birth. There she would swear her loyalty to the heir of Isildur as she had done so many times in the past. And each time she would remember the words Lady Galadriel had given her on the riverbank and her mind was troubled with their meaning.

This morning was no different save for the strange footfalls in the woods behind her and she knew that, light as they were, they were not those of an Elf. Warily she listened as the sounds drew closer and she gave no sign to betray her knowledge of the intruder's presence. When the sounds were nearly upon her she laid her hand upon the hilt of her sword and swung it round as she stood to face the trespasser.

Metal clashed with wood as her blade struck the staff that had been readied in anticipation of the attack. Halbyn's eyes were wide in recognition of the man who stood before her decked majestically in white.

"Impressive, my dear, though there was never any doubt in my mind," he smiled. "You have been well taught."

"Gandalf?" she said as she lowered her sword. "They told me you were dead."

"And likely I should have been, were it not for impeccable timing of friends and perhaps a bit of much-welcomed luck," he said with a wink. "There is much to my tale, though I suspect you have already heard tidings of the battle of Khazad-dûm?" Halbyn nodded, still regarding the wizard in disbelief. "Well then, that's half the story already! Ah, but you've always been one for Bilbo's stories over mine," Gandalf's eyes twinkled at his gentle teasing.

Halbyn smiled up at him and then dropped her sword and threw her arms around him in a hug. "I'm so happy to see you, Gandalf. When they told me you were gone, I did not know what to think. Of course, much of my mind was spent on keeping my strength so I did not have time to dwell upon it. I couldn't believe it, Gandalf. I couldn't imagine a time without you."

"You quite almost had to," Gandalf patted her head gently. "And Galadriel told me of your sickness. You really do have some strength in you, my child."

She flushed a bit at the compliment but it did not stop her from seeking answers. "But what's happened to you, Gandalf?" she asked, pulling away from him and taking a handful of his white robes. "Your clothes, and your hair, they're all white. It seems to me you've become like Saruman as you spoke of him in your stories."

"Perhaps, though in looks only," he said. "Know simply that I am no longer Gandalf the Grey, as you knew me, but Gandalf the White. There is much for me to tell, just as there is much I wish to hear from you, but time is running short. I have learned much during my absence from the Quest and it seems now I must again hurry to catch up to those I sent off."

"Has something happened?" she asked.

"Indeed, though it is not best for you to learn of it now, for it will hinder the errand I must send you on. Alas, I cannot be in two places at once."

"Whatever you ask of me, I will do it."

"Go then to Edoras but take care to be seen by none but the Lady of Rohan. I fear great evil now shadows the kingdom but it has not yet affected the strong Lady Éowyn. I put the protection of the child of Éomund in your charge. Speak with her and tell her of my coming. She must see to it that this evil does not go unwatched. Go!"

Halbyn picked up and sheathed her sword and clasped her fist to her breast before dashing off through the Golden Wood. Lumbulë would not be far from the borders of Lothlórien and it would be at the very least a two day hard ride to Edoras.

"Take care, dear girl," Gandalf watched her go, and then he himself left to carry out his mission.


	8. To Deny the Dealings of the Heart

Chapter Eight: To Deny the Dealings of the Heart

Halbyn burst out of the forest of Lórien onto the plains to the south and felt immediate pain as the sun's rays beat down upon her. The place on her side that forever bore the scar from the Nazgûl blade began to throb and she scrambled back under the canopy of the Elven wood, gasping for air. She turned her head and squinted out across the open land. The pain slowly began to subside and her breathing returned to normal and she then remembered the pain of the sunlight on her eyes when the blindfold had been removed on the way to Caras Galadhon and the look of worry on Aragorn's face as he carried her through the Golden Wood. This pain, she realized, was a lasting effect of the Black Breath. Hesitantly, she brought her thumb and forefinger to her lips, whistled shrilly and waited.

"You are only barely healed and you still dash off blindly into danger without question," a voice said from behind her. "Even when you are told to rest."

Halbyn stood and turned to see Haldir leaning against a _mellyrn_ tree, regarding her thoughtfully.

"I could do no less," she replied.

Haldir's sharp blue eyes continued to study her. "I watched you when they brought you into Caras Galadhon," he said, walking slowly toward her. "I was there as Aragorn carried you through the Golden Wood. I saw your eyes as you fell deeper and deeper into His power." He stopped in front of her and they stared into each other's eyes. "What makes you think you can so quickly return to the fight?"

Halbyn's words stuck in her throat but she straightened and did not break gaze from the Galadrim. "I've got to try."

The corners of Haldir's mouth curled into a slight smile and his look softened. "Then the Lady Galadriel sends this gift to you," he said and unfastened the intricate pin that held his cloak around his shoulders. "It is like those we gave to the others. You will need it if you are to travel through the Riddermark unseen." He handed the cloak to her, and then a small package wrapped in leaves of Lothlórien. "She also sends _lembas_ bread to give you strength." He then reached out and clasped her shoulder with his right hand and she did the same to his. "May the stealth of the Elves be with you and may the grace of the Valar protect you."

Halbyn draped the Elven cloak around her shoulders over her green Ranger cloak. "Send my thanks to the White Lady," she said, "and my gratitude goes to you as well, noble Haldir." Haldir nodded and Halbyn clasped her fist over her breast in the Ranger salute. A soft whinny cut through the still air and both looked past the edge of the forest as a dark grey horse trotted into view. "Farewell," she said to him and pulled her hood onto her head and down over her eyes before stepping into the sunlight again. She cringed but the pain was considerably less now and she breathed normally.

"Lumbulë," she called to him and the stallion trotted over to nuzzle his mistress. "I knew you would know where to wait for me, old friend."

Lumbulë whinnied; the horse was agitated. He could sense the danger and it made him anxious when having to stay in one place for too long. After being west of the Misty Mountains for so long, moving east as quickly as they had made him uneasy, especially in light of recent events. Halbyn could sense it as well.

"Let's go," she said, pulling herself onto her steed. "We've got to go to Edoras." Lumbulë snorted and began to gallop south in the direction of the capital of Rohan.

* * *

Aragorn watched solemnly as the Elvish boat that carried Boromir's lifeless body crashed over the waterfall. At first, he had admittedly disliked the outspoken, brash man of Gondor, but over the course of the Fellowship's journey they had become quite good friends. A mutual respect had formed between them and Aragorn remembered the last words Boromir had spoken:

"_I would have followed you, my brother - my captain - my King_."

Aragorn swallowed hard. First, Frodo had been stabbed by Witch-King on Weathertop. Next, Gandalf had fallen to the Balrog, and then Halbyn had been infected with the Black Breath. And now the giant Uruks had kidnapped Merry and Pippin, and Boromir had been slain. To top it all off, Frodo and Sam were now on their way to Mordor alone.

All under his leadership.

The Fellowship was broken.

The Bane of Isildur had now become his as well.

And now he had a choice ahead of him: follow the Ringbearer to Mordor, take the road to Minas Tirith or track the Uruk-Hai that had kidnapped Merry and Pippin in the faint hope that the young Hobbits were still alive.

Aragorn strapped Boromir's gauntlet on his wrist as Legolas hurriedly pushed the remaining Elvish boat into the Anduin. "Hurry," he called. "Frodo and Sam have reached the Eastern shore!" Aragorn did not move but simply shifted his gaze to the almost unnoticeable rustling of the brush on the far riverbank. Legolas looked at him quizzically and turned questioning eyes to Gimli. A silent agreement passed between the Elf and the Dwarf that their leader had truly been emotionally destroyed by the recent tragic events. "You mean not to follow them?" the Prince of Mirkwood asked.

Aragorn sighed. "Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands."

Legolas's face fell and he looked away. He almost couldn't believe that Aragorn would give up so easily but he was hearing it with his own ears. Gimli looked from Legolas to Aragorn and took a step toward the Ranger.

"Then it has all been in vain," he said sadly. "The Fellowship has failed."

"Not if we hold true to each other." Gimli blinked and he and Legolas looked up at Aragorn in time to catch the returned twinkle in the Ranger's grey eyes. "We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death," Aragorn continued, his voice growing stronger. "Not while we have strength left! Leave all that can be spared behind. We travel light," he smirked as he sheathed his Elven dagger. "Let's hunt some orc."

A smile spread across Legolas's face and Gimli cried out happily as they dashed off after Aragorn in the direction the Uruk-Hai had gone. Aragorn breathed a silent sigh of relief in his choice; no matter how much tragedy and loss they suffered, he knew he could never give up. The fate resting upon his shoulders was far too important to risk.

* * *

It was a far cry from the Shire.

Such were Pippin's thoughts as he dashed through the tall grass away from the Uruk-Hai that had marched them across the foreign plains. He hadn't really known what his intentions were at the time, but he knew he had to leave a clue - something (anything!) for Aragorn to follow. That is, if they hadn't all gone off with Frodo to Mordor.

But now that he'd made the first move the idea came into his mind to keep moving. Perhaps there would be some chance, however small, that he could escape and he could keep running and running and putting more and more distance between he and the Uruks and somehow he would be safe.

And then his thoughts turned to Merry.

His poor Brandybuck cousin was back with the Uruks with a gash the size of Brandy Hall on his brow, growing weaker by the moment. And then Pippin thought of Sam's loyalty to Frodo and Halbyn's loyalty to Aragorn and the young Took knew that he could never in his right mind leave Merry.

Pippin dove to the muddy earth and hastily pulled the intricate pin from his Elven cloak. He barely had time to drop it to the ground before he felt a pair of strong hands take hold of his shoulders and violently hoist him into the air. He did not even hear the snarls of the furious orcs around him as he kept his gaze on the spot where the clasp lay in the disturbed grass. Pippin nodded; he'd done the right thing. Aragorn would find it. Aragorn _had_ to find it.

Pippin caught Merry's eye in the confusion as the Uruks attempted to reform their marching pattern, and gave him look of encouragement. The golden-haired Brandybuck had only been able to manage a sickly smile before the Uruks had picked them up and set them marching again.

It was a far cry from the Shire, indeed.

* * *

By dusk Halbyn and Lumbulë had reached the banks of the Limlight - the river marking the northern boundary of Rohan. She swiftly dismounted and walked to the river's edge and kneeled in the grass, studying the pale moon's reflection in the glassy water. For several moments she was lost in thought until Lumbulë shifted his weight and kicked a flurry of pebbles into the water, sending ripples through the moon's image. Halbyn looked up and patted his side.

"You're still worried," she nodded. "Now is not the time for fears and doubts, my friend. We must be strong for the path ahead bears many dangers. We must put our personal feelings aside," with her last statement, Halbyn's voice trailed off and she was again lost in thought. She could sense that Pippin was in pain but could not allow her mind to dwell upon it, for surely it would drive her mad with hopelessness and despair. This decision to refuse to think of him, however, created anguish within itself.

Lumbulë nudged her gently with his muzzle and she turned intense grey eyes on him. "Can I count on you?" The shadowy stallion snorted and stamped the earth. "I knew I did not have to ask."

Halbyn stooped again and filled her water-skin and then took hold of Lumbulë's saddle and pulled herself onto the valiant steed. "To Edoras, Lumbulë. _Noro_ _lim_; we take advantage of the cover of night while we have it." The horse shook his head and sprang forth into a gallop across the plains of Rohan.

As the night went on the moon rose in the eastern sky and cast dim shadows on the grassy land. By the time its silver sheen was set high above them Halbyn and Lumbulë had ridden nearly halfway to the Entwash along the eastern rim of Fangorn forest. The Ranger remained wary of the old woods, remembering the feeling of being watched when she had last passed by its borders. Once she stopped to listen, certain that she had heard strange voices from within and then quickened her pace.

Another hour of hard riding and both Ranger and steed began to seek a place to rest. Halbyn dismounted and began to set camp within close range of Fangorn; the forest was said to be haunted and it was unlikely that anyone would venture near enough to discover her.

Lumbulë took the chance to wander a few steps in search of desirable grasses to eat and Halbyn settled in the enormous roots of an old gnarled tree. In the last moments before drifting off to sleep she would have sworn that she could hear whispering voices on the dense breeze that rustled the leaves and set creaking the old, mossy trunks of the ancient Fangorn trees.

* * *

"Merry?"

"I think we might have made a mistake leaving the Shire, Pippin."

Pippin grinned. He was comforted to know that at least Merry wasn't quite as bad off as he'd first thought. Hearing his cousin's voice gave him new hope that they would make it through this all right.

The Hobbits had been tossed to the side when the Uruks had grudgingly decided to halt their trek to Isengard for the time being on the outskirts of Fangorn forest. Several had begun chopping wood to build a fire and the hairs on Pippin's neck stood up straight as suddenly from the woods an eerie medley of moaning and wailing could be heard.

"What's making that noise?" Pippin said and turned wide eyes to the forest, half-expecting to see some wide beast emerge from the shadowy woods.

Merry propped himself up on his elbows. "It's the trees," he realized after a moment.

"What?" Pippin asked in disbelief.

Merry turned excitedly to his cousin. "Remember the Old Forest?" he asked. "On the borders of Buckland? Folk used to say there was something in the woods that made the trees grow tall...and come _alive_."

Pippin felt a chill go through his little body. "Come alive?"

"Trees that could whisper - speak to each other," Merry said. "Even _move_."

All thoughts of the forest were quickly forgotten when one orc suggested that the Hobbits might be good to eat. Merry and Pippin snapped their heads up and were terrified to see several orcs eyeing them hungrily. Even after the Uruk leader stated that they were not for eating, Grishnakh - a particularly brash orc - inquired about eating just their legs, as they could still live without them. Before Pippin knew what was happening, an orc had lunged for them and had his head chopped off for his troubles. Pippin and Merry were thrown to the ground and the Uruks were in frenzy over the fresh meat of one of their own.

The Hobbits wasted no time and began to crawl away from the chaos but were stopped again by Grishnakh who stepped on Merry and dared them to call for help. Merry gasped for breath under the orc's weight and Pippin winced as the orc squeezed his face tighter and tighter in his sinewy grip.

Suddenly Grishnakh loosened his grasp and Merry and Pippin sat up to see a spear protruding from their attacker's back. A battalion of horse-riders was slashing their way through the Uruk troop and Pippin rolled to one side only to end up on his back staring at the underside of an enormous steed rearing over him. He screamed and realized in that moment that, after all that had happened, he would reach his end beneath a horse's hoofs.

Pippin gathered all his strength and broke away, rolling to his left and clear of the horse's path. Tonight would not be his last - not as long as he still had so much to do. And he certainly would not go down without a fight. Boromir had at least taught him that much. The young Took cut the ropes that bound his hands on a discarded battleaxe and then did the same for Merry, pulling his cousin to his feet. The two dodged swinging blades and flying spears and ran in the direction of the forest.

As they passed Grishnakh's still form, the orc reached up again and grabbed Merry's Elven belt. Pippin stopped running and returned to help the Brandybuck unbuckle the strap and escape Grishnakh again. Before following Merry as he dashed into the shadowy cover of Fangorn, Pippin stopped and looked north along the border of the wood. He suddenly had an odd feeling wash over him and his heart strained. Somehow between the sounds of the battle and the moaning of the trees, he could almost hear a soft whinny and a hushed female voice urging the horse to move. Pippin nearly obeyed his urge to investigate but then hurried into the gnarled forest after Merry.

* * *

Halbyn was roused from her slumber as the whispers of the forest suddenly became mournful wails and the roots among which she was sleeping began to creak and move. She leapt to her feet and scanned the darkness and could see no danger nearby, but the moans of Fangorn forest were too loud a warning to ignore.

The Ranger dropped to the ground and, using the skills Aragorn had taught her, pressed her ear to the dirt and listened intently. The thundering of hoof-beats mixed with heavy footfalls could be heard to the south. There was a battle nearby and though the approaching day threatened discovery, she was sure to be found if she stayed.

"Lumbulë," she called in a whisper and the grey beast whinnied softy as he came to her side. "We must go. The hills of Rohan should offer sufficient cover if we are careful." She broke a piece of the _lembas_ and ate it, then offered a bit to Lumbulë. They would both need the Elvish strength for they had not been fortunate enough to rest for long. She then climbed onto the horse's back and clicked her tongue and Lumbulë began to trot south as she again set her mind on reaching Edoras unseen.


	9. The Lady, the Messenger and the Worm

Chapter Nine: The Lady, the Messenger and the Worm

Two full days had passed and it was well into the third night before Halbyn finally came to Edoras, the great capital of Rohan built into the Ered Nimrais - the White Mountains. The flickering lights offered more than enough shadow for cover, but not enough for a horse.

"I must go the rest of the way on my own, my friend," she said in a whisper as she silently dismounted. "I cannot risk being seen by even a dog wandering in the street. _Namárië_, Lumbulë; you will know when it is safe to come again."

Lumbulë's black eyes watched his mistress as she patted his flank gently and then crept away along the outer wall of the city. The grey horse flared his nostrils but did not move; he was hesitant to leave her without knowing that she would be safe. It was different when he'd left her in Aragorn's care. With him, Lumbulë knew that she was with someone he could trust. This time he could smell the danger surrounding the city, but he knew he would put her in greater danger if he stayed. With one last look as the Ranger swiftly scaled and slipped over the perimetre wall, Lumbulë turned and went off as quietly as he could manage.

Halbyn landed softly on the ground on the other side of the wall and the loose dirt made an almost inaudible _piff_ against her leather boots. She pulled her hood over her face and peered around the corner of the building; there was nobody around. There were, however, several torches lit all over the city and they created a minor problem in terms of secrecy should someone look out a window at just that inopportune moment. Halbyn very carefully made her way from building to building up the rocky cliff along the wall, all the while watching the windows for any sign of danger. She did not encounter any real trouble until she neared the Golden Hall of Meduseld.

Several guards stood watch at the doors of the Hall and torches lined the stone staircase that lead down into the town square. Halbyn frowned; this was not going to be easy and it was clear that the guards were already edgy. Anything out of the ordinary would be taken very seriously.

Halbyn thought hard for a moment, wondering if there could be a way to use the guards' caution to her advantage. Slowly, so as not to make even the slightest sound that would betray her, Halbyn drew a long wooden arrow from the quiver under her cloak and fitted it to her Númenorean bow. She set her jaw in determination; she had (as she had told Bilbo) _always_ preferred the blade to the bow as it was so much more reliable. She pulled back the bowstring and took careful aim. A guard rounded the corner and she hesitated, as he would see the arrow's origin were she to shoot. Halbyn took a deep, calming breath and waiting patiently for the guard to turn around, trying not to think about the pain beginning to grow in her arms as she held the string taught.

At long last the guard turned away and Halbyn loosed her arrow which glided through the still night air and landed on the far side of Meduseld. There was a shout from several guards and all turned and moved toward the sound of the possible intruder. In the brief moment during which every guard had their back to her, Halbyn leapt over the stone ridge of the stairway and dove back under cover of the shadows. When she looked back, two guards had returned to their post at the front of the Hall.

Halbyn took a deep breath and surveyed her surroundings. Getting into Meduseld would be the most difficult stretch of her mission. The inner corridors would be heavily guarded as well, and she had no idea where the Lady Éowyn's chambers were. With a wary glance at the returned guards, Halbyn slunk along the wall and around the back but froze at the sound of voices that were drawing steadily nearer. Hiding was not an option; the only cover was offered by the shadows in which Halbyn was already crouched. There were no trees and she hadn't time to reach one of the houses before the guards could spot her. Halbyn cleared her thoughts and suddenly remembered the Lórien cloak Haldir had given her. On instinct she pressed as tightly against the wall of Meduseld as she could and wrapped the cloak around her.

"-strange happenings this night, Gamling," one voice was saying. "Everybody's on edge. More orcs than ever are roaming our lands. The shadows are whispering and I cannot shake this feeling about that arrow."

"Was anybody discovered?" a second, older voice asked.

"Nay, nothing, and that has made everyone all the more nervous. I've a mind to tell the King, if not for that wretched sorcerer."

"I do not trust Gríma Wormtongue either, but - hold," he cut himself off and Halbyn heard that they had stopped walking. She froze and barely dared to breathe. She could not tell where the two men were looking but they faced the direction where she sat against the Golden Hall. She was certain that they had sensed her presence somehow and that at any moment one would stride forward and discover her. She pictured herself shackled in the dungeons awaiting execution on accusation of being a spy in service to the Dark Lord. Halbyn heard one man shift his weight and she clenched her eyes shut…

…and just as soon reopened them. The older man had whispered something quickly to the other and both made their way around the Hall, walking more swiftly than before. Halbyn watched them go, waiting until they were out of sight before breathing normally again. They hadn't noticed her after all, but still Halbyn did not move from the cover of the shadows. She could not help but wonder: if not her, what was it that had made the guards stop?

* * *

Gríma Wormtongue sneered as he watched Gamling and the other guard round the corner. _So, they don't trust me_; Wormtongue had known the guards were getting too suspicious. He wasn't so ignorant as not to notice the increased numbers on night watch since he had arrived in Edoras. He knew they were wary of him but it was to no avail, for he also knew that no matter what he did they would never dare second-guess their King - the King that he controlled. Therefore it did not matter what the guards thought about him; he was safe in Edoras so long as Théoden was under the power of Saruman.

This was not what had brought Wormtongue to the window, however. What concerned him was the intruder he knew was lurking within the walls of the capital.

Wormtongue was no fool. He had seen from his window a lone horse trotting away from the city over the plains of Rohan. Such a creature would never be allowed to wander the wild, especially in such dangerous times. The Rohirrim valued horses above all else and Wormtongue had known immediately that it did not belong to them. For the next hour Wormtongue had darted from window to window in a mad fury. An outsider was liable to escape with information of the treachery that he had brought to this land and spark the liberation of Rohan from Saruman's control. Wormtongue could not allow that - his punishment would be severe.

At this particular window Wormtongue had stopped. There had been movement - incredibly slight, but movement nonetheless - in the shadows cast by the Great Hall. Had he thought it one of the many dogs wandering the city he would have moved on, but a dog would not have melted into the darkness at the sound of approaching guards.

And so Wormtongue had lingered and listened to the worried conversation between Gamling and the younger sentry. It pleased him greatly to know that the Men of Rohan still feared him and dared not speak too loudly in case he should guess at their mistrust. But the arrow they spoke of made him nervous and they had made no motion of recognition to the figure in the shadows. It was possible, Wormtongue supposed, that the distraction of the guards' arrival had caused him to miss the intruder's escape from view, but somehow he knew this was not the case. For this reason he stayed at the window long after Gamling had ushered the young man away after catching sight of him, and he waited and watched until he knew the shadows would not stir under his gaze. Finally he stormed away deeper into the Hall, vowing to keep his eyes and ears alert for even the slightest change that may be cause for his unsettling suspicion.

* * *

What it was that had made her remain hidden for so long after the guards had left, Halbyn was not certain. But whether her hesitation was well founded or not she had waited until the feeling of danger had passed. She knew better than to go against her instincts; to be discovered now due to a reckless mistake would be inexcusable.

Halbyn moved away from her hiding spot and began to scout along the wall of Meduseld, inspecting every inch with careful scrutiny. Many years of hard weather had taken their toll and the Golden Hall was full of notches and gouges large enough for suitable footholds. After a cautious check of her surroundings, Halbyn reached up and began to climb the wall. She moved swiftly as she was not sure when there would be more guards, but by now she had figured out that the Elven cloak would shield her from unfriendly eyes. Still, being careful would certainly not be a liability.

A flickering light was coming from the window above and Halbyn climbed up and peered inside. A woman was kneeling at the side of a bed, her golden hair falling around her shoulders and her face buried in the blankets. In her hands she clenched the hand of the figure lying in the bed - a pale-faced young man. The woman's shoulders rose and fell as she silently sobbed to herself. Halbyn watched for a moment; something told her that this was the woman for whom she was here. She looked around and when she saw nobody else was in the room she quickly slipped inside.

* * *

Éowyn stopped sobbing and listened hard; she had become accustomed to hearing the quietest noises when the need to be alone had grown to necessity. A moment ago she _had_ been alone with her dying cousin. Now there was somebody else in the room and she couldn't help but think Wormtongue was again skulking around her.

Slowly, she raised her tear-stained face from the blankets and searched the room. She could not see anybody but sensed a presence nonetheless. She waited for a sound that would betray the intruder but none came. The only sounds in the room were of the fire burning in the fireplace, the wind whistling past the window and Théodred's shallow breathing - which was becoming scarcely audible at all. Éowyn became even more alert; any creature that so skillfully clung to shadow and existed without a sound was a threat. And she was unarmed.

Éowyn's eyes fell upon Théodred's bloodstained sword that lay at the foot of his bed. She inched her hand away from his and toward the weapon until she felt the cool touch of the hilt upon her fingertips, then grasped it in her hand and leapt to her feet, blade out before her.

"Show yourself!" she hissed to the darkness. "I have only to scream and you will be finished before you know what has happened. The shadows cannot hide you from a hundred armed guards, all of whom are always more than eager to have their swords taste orc flesh."

A moment passed and then a voice that was not like any orc voice Éowyn had ever heard spoke: "Do not scream, my Lady, I mean you no harm."

"Perhaps not," she said. "But I suspect it is my cousin you have come to finish. I will say again: show yourself!" A dark figure emerged from the shadows and Éowyn no sooner saw the movement than had her sword to the intruder's throat. The person was hooded and Éowyn could not make out a face save for minute features from the light of the flickering fire. Then her eyes fell upon the glinting hilt of a sword. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"A fr-"

"A spy?" she stared pointedly, her blue eyes flashing with anger. "One who would report our weaknesses to the Dark Lord?"

"I would die before I served Mordor."

"You will die anyway, unless I find very good reason to spare your pathetic life," Éowyn said and the figure fell silent. "If you are neither assassin nor spy, then I would know your purpose for coming here."

"As a messenger, my Lady. I bring word to the Lady Éowyn - was I right in assuming you are she?"

"You were."

"Then it is you Gandalf the Grey sends me to meet."

Éowyn's next words caught in her throat and for a moment she relaxed. If Gandalf had really sent word with such caution then the message must be important. But how could she be certain this messenger was telling the truth?

"Show me your face," she said slowly. The other hesitated, then carefully reached up and pulled back - her hood. "A woman?" Éowyn said with little emotion. "I _thought_ you were too small for an orc."

The woman made as if to move forward. "My Lady, I-"

"Stay where you are!" Éowyn commanded, pushing the sword tighter against the woman's neck. "I do not yet know if I can trust you."

The stranger locked her grey eyes with the blue ones of Éowyn and then slowly - so as not to startle her, Éowyn supposed - lowered herself to her knees. Éowyn kept her sword at the woman's throat as she drew her own sword from its scabbard and offered it up to her. "I lay my life in your hands, my Lady. To my people that is the greatest trust of all. I do not know how else to prove myself to you."

Éowyn took the offered blade and examined the hilt, recognizing the sleek make to be Númenorean design. She turned her eyes back to the woman at her mercy and said coldly, "Then you had best deliver your message."

* * *

Halbyn was growing annoyed at the cold metal pressing steadily harder against her windpipe. If she had really wanted to attack she would have done so in the brief moment Éowyn had relaxed the pressure on her sword when Halbyn had mentioned Gandalf. She had very nearly said so when her trustworthiness had come into question, but had decided to take a less threatening approach.

"Gandalf fears a great evil in your kingdom," she said.

"And he sends you to protect me?" Éowyn scoffed as she indicated the sword at Halbyn's throat. "I have long since had the skill and means to ensure my own protection."

"Mainly to warn you, my Lady," Halbyn went on. "He knows you are not yet shadowed by this evil but you must keep a close eye on it. The followers of Saruman are-"

"What of Saruman?" Éowyn demanded.

"He has betrayed the Free Peoples and is in service of the Dark Lord."

Éowyn looked long at Halbyn and her face was sad. "Then it is as I have feared," she said and took her blade from Halbyn's neck. "Rise, friend of Gandalf. I for Rohan recognize you as friend as well. Forgive my cold welcome; we have learned to be wary in a land that favours the treacherous and allows them to walk openly and without fear."

Halbyn stood and accepted her sword as Éowyn handed it back to her. "That is why I am here, my Lady. Gandalf sent me before his coming to ensure that treachery had not yet taken you."

"Gandalf comes here?"

"Aye, he and his companions are not far now."

Éowyn returned to the bedside and sheathed the bloody sword. "This news brings comfort though I do not know if even Gandalf can help. Hope runs thin in the blood of my people; these days we've almost none left." She took the hand of the young man in the bed. "This is Théodred - my kinsman and son of the King. He led the defense of the Fords of Isen and now he is dying for his courage. And Théoden will not see him nor would he recognize him. He prefers the hissing of Gríma Wormtongue in his ear to the words of those who would see Rohan restored to her former glory.

"Théodred tried to bring his father's thoughts back to the Kingdom, as did my brother Éomer but he would not listen. Even I used to be able to advise my uncle but now none can sway his mind from the poison of that snake."

Éowyn fell silent and both women turned their eyes to the door at the sound of faint footsteps in the hall. "Take to the shadows again, my friend," Éowyn said. "It is he. Watch and you will know my hatred for him."

Halbyn slunk back into the corner of the room and wrapped the cloak of Lórien around her. No sooner had she done so than the door opened and a pale-faced man robed in black crept into the room so smoothly that he seemed to slither. His wide eyes flickered yellow by the flames in the fireplace and his lip curled into a cruel sneer as his gaze fell first upon Théodred and then moved to Éowyn.

"Dear Lady," his words seemed to drip from his tongue around his crooked teeth. The sound of his voice brought a sting to Halbyn's ears and a prickling burn to the Black scar on her side. "Why do you insist on locking yourself within these walls where hope and life do not dare linger but for a brief taunting moment?"

"And where should I be, Gríma, if not here?" Éowyn said. "At my uncle's side to watch you haunt his mind with your foul presence?"

"Words so cold; you wound me, my Lady," the sneer had not gone from his face.

"If only that were true."

"Know that I only wish to serve the King, as I have ever done, and I have never gone against his word," Wormtongue said, his eyes flashing. "These are Dark days for Rohan and it does not do to turn on those of undying loyalty to the Kingdom."

Though Wormtongue did not speak to her, Halbyn could feel his words reaching out and wrapping their poisonous tendrils around her neck. The air grew cold and she felt suddenly as though she were tangled in a forest of cobwebs that threatened to overtake her should she dare struggle against their grip. She could not draw breath and she was certain that Wormtongue had somehow become aware of her presence, but her mind was clouded with images of death and she could not think of how to overcome him. Gathering her strength she forced herself to watch and listen further.

Wormtongue moved closer to Éowyn. She was staring ahead with her mouth slightly open, shivering against the icy spell that filled the room. Halbyn knew that she too was ensnared by the web of his words and could not clear her thoughts. Wormtongue circled her and stroked her cold cheek with his long bony finger. "Come forth with me, my Lady," he whispered. "Are you so enamored with death that you would bind yourself to the decay Fate's bite brings rather than remain strong at my side?"

Éowyn's body shook and she seemed to gasp for air. Halbyn's sight began to fade as the cold grew so intense that the fire began to die. Théodred's lips turned a dull shade of blue and his light breath wisped in a tiny cloud over his mouth. Éowyn saw this and her eyes suddenly snapped into focus.

"I would be by your side, Gríma," she spat, "if only to wait for you to turn your back that I might drive my dagger through it."

The cruel glee disappeared from Wormtongue's eyes though the sneer remained on his lips as he hissed at Éowyn and in a fury swept from the room. Éowyn collapsed next to the bed as the fire roared again and its warmth replaced the ghostly cold that followed Wormtongue from the chamber. The cobwebs left Halbyn's skin and she breathed gratefully as she moved to Éowyn's side.

"You felt his power?" Éowyn turned her gaze to the Ranger, who nodded. "Such is the curse that holds my uncle the King a prisoner in his own home. Wormtongue is constantly in his ear, breathing his poison into Théoden's mind," she said as she took Théodred's hand again. "And I do not know for how much longer I can fight him."

Halbyn sat next to Éowyn and watched the hardly-noticeable rising and falling of Théodred's chest. She looked from the bloodstained sword by the bed to the blotches of crimson on the sheets. Then her mind was drawn to the scar that still tingled from Wormtongue's Dark power. Her thoughts settled finally on Pippin who had saved her from the hopeless shroud of death the Shadow had bore down on her.

"It is as bleak a horizon as I have ever seen, my Lady," she said. "But we mustn't give up yet. For from that hopeless direction Gandalf rides and I do not doubt that he brings with him the means to save Rohan from the Doom that has claimed her."

Éowyn pushed her blonde hair behind her ear to reveal the smile that had crossed her beautiful face. She took Halbyn's hand in hers and squeezed it in appreciation. Neither woman spoke; neither were completely certain that Halbyn's words held any truth, but the tiny glimmer of hope they brought was vastly more important.


	10. Harsh Reality

Chapter Ten: Harsh Reality

Théodred was dead. The poison of the orc blades had finally claimed his life and he slipped quietly into the night. Éowyn, who had already consented herself to his fate, was resigned to keep her heart hard and her voice cold. Her face was void of expression; this was not her only grief. Her brother Éomer had returned to Edoras only hours before Théodred's passing and when she had told him of Wormtongue's endless haunting her, he had threatened death to Gríma before Théoden in his hall. For this he was imprisoned.

Éowyn watched as her cousin's body was carried from the room and felt a presence at her side. She turned to see Halbyn, dressed in the garb of a servant, her own clothes safely hidden among Éowyn's belongings. Even in this guise she had been under Wormtongue's suspicious gaze.

Gríma had clearly been agitated. He had madly swept through the Hall following the Ranger's arrival, and his sharp eyes had searched every corner for some clue as to the intruder he was certain was still present. After Théodred's death and Éomer's sentence, however, he had calmed considerably and decided himself safe in light of recent events. Indeed, he may have been right.

"Second Marshal of the Mark, slain upon the West Marches," Éowyn said, each word like ice. "Farewell cousin. Rohan shall soon join you."

"All hope is not lost," Halbyn whispered to her. "Have strength, my Lady."

"My strength will hold and carry me to my death, for I'll not stand idle while Rohan goes to ruin," Éowyn replied. "But do not speak of hope while there is no proof of its existence. I was foolish to believe your words two nights ago, but now I see they were spoken only in faith." The White Lady of Rohan looked at Halbyn and the Ranger saw beneath her hardness a sadness in her blue eyes. "Come," she commanded. "I must speak with my brother."

The two women walked swiftly through the Golden Hall, Halbyn two paces behind her mistress and her eyes cast to the floor. The dungeon guards stood aside for their Lady and she led Halbyn to a cell at the end of a long row. Inside sat a man and though he wore no armour and carried no weapon he was most certainly a warrior. The colour of his hair matched the gold upon his sister's head and his blue eyes were sharp and fierce. He had a strong build and when he stood to greet his sister Halbyn saw that he was taller than were most Men.

"Éowyn," he kissed her brow through the iron bars. "What news, sister?"

"Théodred is gone and Gríma is ever at our uncle's side," she said. "Even as they dig his grave Théoden will not leave the hall to see his son."

"These are ill tidings though I expected no less," Éomer frowned, clenching his fist at the mention of Wormtongue. He cast a curious look at Halbyn, who quickly averted her eyes, forgetting her place for a moment. "I've seen such eyes before," Éomer mused, "on a man great and proud. He wielded a sword of unparalleled magnificence and he called himself Aragorn son of Arathorn."

"Aragorn!" Halbyn cried before she could catch herself. "Where did you meet him?"

Éomer laughed - a sound that was uncommon to their surroundings. "I see I was right not to trust your disguise. My sister was never known to have a tending handmaiden. You are Dúnedain if I have ever seen one of your people. But I shall answer your question, Lady. I by chance met Aragorn and his companions two days past for they were traveling through the Eastmark."

"Then they are not far," Halbyn said. "Believe me when I say you bring good news, my Lord."

"What is this you speak of?" Éomer asked and Éowyn too turned her questioning gaze to the Ranger.

"It is Aragorn and his company Gandalf the Grey seeks before he turns his path to Edoras," she replied. "They are likely riding in this direction as we speak."

"It cannot be so - Gandalf the Grey is dead."

"Truly, my Lord, he is alive," Halbyn insisted. "He met me in the Golden Wood of Lórien and bade me ride before him and tell the Lady of Rohan of his coming."

"You have been to Lothlórien?" Éowyn looked at her in surprise. "This you never told me."

"It is by the Lady Galadriel that I still live," Halbyn said. "I was not certain this would be seen as friendly in your land though the Galadrim are allies to the enemies of the Dark Lord."

"You speak as strangely as did Aragorn himself," Éomer said. "But this is indeed good news. My heart is glad to hear of Gandalf's return. But even if they were to arrive this day, I would hardly call an Elf and a Dwarf a company. Worthy as the Lord Aragorn's companions are, we are in need of a great many more to see Rohan to freedom from Saruman's control."

Halbyn's face fell. "When we parted ways the company was eight - how is it there are three?"

"My apologies, Lady, I have spoken rashly," Éomer said gravely. "Boromir of Gondor was slain at the Falls of Rauros."

"Alas!" cried Halbyn. "Though we met only briefly I knew him to be a good man."

"As for the others of his company, I know not of their fate, only that Aragorn was tracking through Rohan a band of Uruks who he claimed had taken Halflings as prisoners," Éomer said.

Halbyn looked away. She remembered sensing Pippin's distress at the border of Fangorn and now understood the reason. Galadriel had been right to say that neither Halbyn nor Pippin's souls would find rest when they were apart.

"What is it, my friend?" Éowyn asked.

"Your tale is two days old," Halbyn turned back to Éomer. "Could it be that Aragorn has found those he sought?"

Éomer's face was grim. "The orcs were destroyed by my _éored_ four days ago now. It was before we knew of their captives. We found no Halflings among the dead, for we burned every corpse." A long silence followed during which Halbyn let the information register. Éomer carefully studied the dark cloud that had passed over the Ranger's face. "I am truly sorry. I can see this grieves you most deeply."

"More than I could ever have known," she agreed, and then turned to Éowyn. "If you would allow it, my Lady, I wish to take my leave."

Éowyn nodded and Halbyn - keeping her eyes down - quickly passed the guards and left the dungeons. Éomer sighed heavily.

"She has lost somebody dear to her this day," he said sadly.

"Such is the very reason I shall never so foolishly give my heart to another," Éowyn's voice was hard.

"Your only weakness, Sister," Éomer replied.

* * *

The hot midday sun burned in the sky but was blocked by great grey clouds that shielded the Riddermark from its radiance. It was a fitting fate; many of the people of Rohan would not have known the beauty of its light, so long had they been without reason to enjoy it.

Halbyn sat at one of the numerous windows of Meduseld, but even she could no longer look past the shadow of hopelessness the clouds had cast over the land. She had her eyes closed and her head slightly bowed as she turned all consciousness inward and thought of nothing but Pippin.

She saw his innocent face and the mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes and for a moment was in total wonder. She would never have believed that she could feel so strongly for somebody so different than herself, and yet she cared for the curly-haired young Hobbit more deeply than she could understand. For that, she would not rest until this war was over and she had dedicated every last ounce of strength to his memory in fighting the armies of the Dark Lord.

A thought occurred to her then as she opened her eyes and looked out across the plains of Rohan. If Pippin had truly died, then, if the Lady of Lórien was to be trusted, a part of her would have suffered the same fate. Her will to continue the fight, however, was testament to the hope that, somewhere, Peregrin Took was still alive.

The sound of a soft scuffling behind her put up her guard as the skills Aragorn had so well taught her overcame her thoughts. She did not turn around, suspecting that a true peasant handmaiden would not have been meant to notice the sound. The air became cold and she knew who was there even before she felt the icy steel press against her throat.

"Shouldn't you be working?" Wormtongue hissed into her ear, sending a shiver up her spine.

"I-"

"_I_ am not fooled by you, girl," he interrupted her. "You knew I was there all along, did you not?" He moved his head around to look at her but she avoided his gaze and said nothing. "I _know_ you did, and I _will_ find out who you're working for - a spy of Gondor, perhaps? Tell me, girl."

Keeping the dagger close to her neck, Gríma clutched Halbyn's arm and turned her around with a strength she would never have guessed him to possess. The malicious smile on his face widened as his eyes wandered down her body and he licked his lips with his snakelike tongue. His grip tightened and her body tensed as he traced the blade point along her collarbone. Still, she kept quiet.

"No? It does not matter," he sneered. "Very soon there will be nothing any of you pathetic fools can do, and then I shall simply kill you myself."

He brought the blade up under her chin as he spoke, intending to pierce the soft skin there as a warning, but swifter than the great Anduin's current she caught his wrist and pushed the weapon between them. Even as he saw the newly kindled fire in her eyes, Wormtongue's heart danced with glee; this was all the evidence he needed to prove she was not whom she claimed. For that, he would kill her.

"Gríma!"

The twinkle in his eyes disappeared as Wormtongue heard his name called from down the corridor. A guard would not stand for the murder of a servant in cold blood, and the twits were far too noble to let him away with such an act. It would be the excuse they had been looking for to permanently rid Meduseld of his presence.

"What is going on here?"

Wormtongue jerked his wrist out of Halbyn's grasp and slipped the dagger into his sleeve as Gamling arrived at his side. Halbyn averted her eyes but not before glimpsing the newcomer's face and recognizing him as the old guard she had seen outside the wall the night of her arrival.

"I was merely speaking with this girl," Gríma's voice was saturated with false charm. "It seems she has forgotten where she is to be."

"I will handle this matter then," Gamling replied, "for you are to be in the throne room. Théoden King requests your presence."

Gríma's charm melted away at once as he stared at Gamling, obviously deciding whether or not he should obey the order, as he despised the thought of allowing the spy to live. His nostrils flared and he angrily cracked the knuckles of his bony fingers, but he held his treacherous tongue and stalked away after a last look at Halbyn.

"You would be wise to stay as far away from him as possible, girl," Gamling advised after watching to ensure Wormtongue had truly gone. "He is not one to be taken lightly."

"Thank you," Halbyn nodded and noticed especially the manner in which he addressed her. Though he had called her 'girl' - the same term used by Wormtongue - the guard's voice was much gentler and almost seemed protective.

"I am called Gamling," he continued. "If ever you require help you needn't hesitate to ask me or any of the guards. We are loyal to the King but our feelings toward Gríma are quite different. What his intentions are we still do not know but I am not surprised that he should stoop so low as to threaten the Lady's handmaiden."

"You are most kind and I shall remember your advice," she smiled finally though she avoided his eyes.

Gamling watched the girl for a moment. He had wondered if he should ask if she had been hurt, but stopped himself before he began. There was something strange about her that he could not place. He thought that perhaps it was the way she held herself - much straighter than any peasant woman he had seen, most of whom had been bent under the hard labour of the lower class. He'd noticed also her arms when he'd first come upon the pair as especially peculiar. It was not uncommon for servants to be strongly built, but the lean muscle structure of her forearms was a distinct trait of one skilled with a sword.

"Sir?"

Gamling was brought out of his thoughts and turned at the voice to see a young soldier walking in his direction. "What is it, Éothain?"

"Erkenbrand seeks your council," the man called Éothain replied. "Théoden King wishes to mount a second defense at the Fords of Isen and will likely send him to lead."

"I will come," Gamling said, though his face showed reluctance. He turned back to Halbyn and said, "Be safe," before taking his leave down the corridor. Éothain looked from Gamling to the handmaiden, furrowed his eyebrows and then followed the old soldier on his way.

Halbyn turned back to the window in relief. She had thought for certain that Gamling had guessed the truth and she would be tossed alongside Éomer in the dungeon for spying. She wondered if he would have been so hasty though, as he seemed reasonable enough to listen to her story. Still, Gandalf had warned her to reveal herself only to the Lady Éowyn.

She considered then what she had just heard from the guards. Éowyn had told her that Théodred had led the last defense at the Fords of Isen and for that he had lost his life. She could understand Gamling's hesitation toward another battle, however inevitable. They were losing countless good men to futile campaigns and their spirits fell with every death at the hands of the Dark Armies.

"Gandalf," Halbyn looked with fading hope to the horizon. "Where are you?"

* * *

"I was afraid of this," Éowyn sighed. Halbyn had just recounted her confrontation with Wormtongue. "Nothing stays hidden from his snake eyes for long. I have often wondered whence he came about this power."

"He is not a wizard then?" Halbyn asked.

"Nothing more than a man and only just that," the other shook her head. "Your tale of Saruman's betrayal becomes all the more likely and I do not doubt that the White Wizard bestowed this cunning spy with magic of his own creation."

"To advise the King in weakening his armies and mistrusting his kinsmen. The peril here is greater than I first thought."

The two had taken refuge in Éowyn's chambers but were careful still to keep their voices hushed in fear that Gríma would be listening at a chink in the wall. The sun was now disappearing beyond the Misty Mountains and both women knew such a vile creature would be more comfortable skulking in the shadows after dark.

"Erkenbrand is a great warrior. If we should lose him as we did Théodred, I wonder if we shall stand any chance against the coming Darkness, even with Gandalf at our side."

"The battalion has already been sent?" said Halbyn.

"They move out at first light, for all the good it will do. The line was barely held last time," Éowyn was getting irritated at the thought. "O! If I could will them to bring the battle here I would for then I could feel of use in fighting rather than waiting for defeat."

Halbyn had no reply, wanting to offer a positive thought but wishing herself to be elsewhere. She looked longingly at the oaken chest in which her weapons had been safely hidden and she yearned to once again feel the hilt of her sword in her hands.

"Lady Éowyn," she said, breaking the silence, "I am of no more use here. You are strong, but now that Gríma Wormtongue knows me you may be in danger should he try again to attack me."

"This is true," Éowyn regretfully admitted. "What do you suggest?"

Halbyn frowned for a moment while she ordered her thoughts. "You must try and convince the King that sending another battalion would be useless. If Saruman and Gríma are truly conspiring, as we suspect, then I do not think they shall wait for much longer before making their move. With the Dark Lord steadily gaining power and a crippled Rohan-"

"I dare not think of it," Éowyn shook her head. "We cannot afford to lose any more men. I shall do all I can to keep Erkenbrand in Edoras."

Halbyn moved away from the cold stone of the wall she'd been leaning against and went to the window, gazing out at the multitude of colours fading from the sky as the last shards of light glimmered in the west. "Dusk is upon us. I shall leave the Hall tonight and search for some sign of my Lord Aragorn's coming. Should I discover anything, I will find a way to contact you."

Éowyn opened the enormous chest and quickly sifted through her clothing and belongings until she found the bundle of garments concealed near the bottom. These she passed to Halbyn and said, "You will be wanting these, my friend. It will be easier to slip from a window unnoticed in the garb of your people than that of a handmaiden." Halbyn smiled as she accepted her clothes; though she had only worn it a day she despised the disguise and was eager to rid herself of it.

As the Ranger swiftly changed her attire, Éowyn pulled the door open a crack and peered into the corridor. "Not a soul is about," she relayed. "Now is the time to move. I will go to the main hall; Gríma will be distracted and will not notice you leave."

Halbyn finished dressing and fastened the Lórien cloak around her shoulders. "Please, if I cannot convince you of anything else I must ask you not to give up hope. All is not yet lost."

Éowyn looked as though she might say something, but in a heartbeat her features hardened and she was again like stone. "Go now," she said as she returned the Ranger's blade and bow. "We haven't time to waste."

Halbyn recognized the coldness in the other woman's manner and felt her stomach tighten with worry, though even now she knew better than to openly second-guess the Shield Maiden of Rohan. She accepted her weapons with a nod and wordlessly slipped out the window into the shadows of night. Éowyn's gaze lingered on the dark opening for a moment before she pulled her chamber door open again and made her way to the main hall.


	11. The Value of Trust and Loyalty

Chapter Eleven: The Value of Trust and Loyalty

Aragorn's trained eyes surveyed the land as Hasufel, the magnificent stallion he had acquired from Éomer, streaked across the countryside. Not far behind rode Legolas and Gimli upon Arod, and several yards ahead Gandalf flew astride the brilliant silver-grey steed Shadowfax.

It amazed him still to think of Gandalf as returned after witnessing himself the wizard's fall to the depths and shadows of Khazad-düm at the hand of the Balrog. Even at their most insistent questioning he had told them simply that he was now Gandalf the White and that no further explanation was necessary. Whether or not this truly made sense to the wizard Aragorn knew not, only that he was no more satisfied after his answer than before. He had also said, however, that it was not the time for lengthy tales and Aragorn had readily agreed knowing all secrets were revealed in time.

And so it was that he had come to find himself racing across Rohan intended for Edoras. Gandalf seemed to think it of great importance that they should arrive as soon as possible and they had now been riding non-stop for a day. It was apparent that Shadowfax had no need for rest, being one of the fabled _mearas_, but Aragorn was not so certain Hasufel or Arod had the same endurance. He had already begun to feel his steed straining to keep pace with his leader and encouragingly patted the beast's neck. Glancing back, Aragorn caught a knowing look from Legolas that told him the Elf had sensed the same of his mount.

Aragorn turned his attention once again to the vast fields and rolling hills that made the Riddermark such a unique countryside. He knew the forest of Fangorn was a ways from the Ered Nimrais, the mountain chain into which was built the capital. For all his skill, however, he could determine neither how far they had traveled nor how much farther they had to go. It was frustrating for the Ranger as he felt he should have recognized a landmark by now for the number of times he'd traveled this land.

Movement in the southeast captured his attention and he raised a hand above his brow to shield his eyes from the brilliant morning sun. The distance was too great to determine the nature of the figure but it was clear enough the presence of some manner of creature. A sense of importance began to grow in Aragorn's mind and soon he alerted Gandalf to his discovery.

"There is no cause for worry, my friend, for it is no orcish foe that you see," Legolas called up to him, having noted Aragorn's alarm. "It is Halbyn."

* * *

For half the night Halbyn had kept her ear bent to the ground seeking even some small sign of Gandalf's coming and was rewarded for her patience by distant hoof-beats from the north. There were three horses by her count which troubled her mind for the number should have been more. The Hobbits, she realized, had not been found and the Company had perhaps lost another of its number.

The Ranger had forced these thoughts from her mind and set to meet them, still clinging to the hope she had not long ago carried for Éowyn's sake.

Day had begun to break when Halbyn finally glimpsed her quarry: a brilliant white light that shone like a beacon on the northern horizon and challenged the glory of the waning sun itself. She had seen such a light before in the heart of Lothlórien when Gandalf had come to meet her, and she knew it to be him now.

She noticed with a bit of relief as the group rode toward her that Legolas and Gimli had been riding together - it was at least some comfort that more of their company had not yet been lost. Then her eyes fell on Aragorn and she saw in his look that he meant to tell her something of importance. She could guess the subject; he had no way of knowing she had already learned from Éomer the result of the battle at the Falls of Rauros. The group dismounted as one and Halbyn addressed the wizard.

"All hope is not yet lost, Gandalf. I have seen the Lady and for now she is well."

"Then there is still time," Gandalf's relief was evident on his face. "This is much welcomed good news."

"But how is it that we find you here?" Aragorn asked of Halbyn. "I asked you to remain in Lothlórien."

"And for a time, my Lord, I obeyed until new orders to me were given," she replied with a nod to Gandalf.

Aragorn turned to the wizard who had a twinkle in his eye. "You neglected to mention that, my friend," he smiled. "While your return was nothing short of miraculous it seems you have set already many plans in motion. I expect this crossing of paths is not by chance?"

"Not at all, Aragorn," Gandalf chuckled. "As promised, I _will_ explain later. For now, we must reach Edoras. What did you manage to learn while there?" he turned back to Halbyn.

"The guards are on edge and receiving the orders of their King from the mouth of Gríma Wormtongue. By his command have they imprisoned the Lord Éomer," she said. "The Lady Éowyn claims also that he has poisoned the King's mind and, though I was not able to see Théoden for myself, I felt the Black powers that Wormtongue possesses. There is no doubt in my mind it is the truth."

"Then we waste precious moments by standing here," Legolas said.

"With haste, to Edoras!" Gimli cried. After racing across Rohan only to learn their Uruk quarry had been slain, the Dwarf was eager to stretch his muscles in battle. "If the Enemy has spies in the capital then that is where our path will take us!" Legolas was quick to agree and aided him back onto their steed. "This Gríma shall learn the consequences of allying with the Dark Lord!"

Aragorn and Halbyn exchanged a smile as they mounted Hasufel (for Shadowfax, strong as he was, would allow none but Gandalf upon him) and the group began again their race to the Golden Hall of Meduseld.

"Where is Lumbulë?" Aragorn asked into her ear as the land streaked by below them.

"I sent him to hide," she said and turned her head a fraction to ensure he could hear. "I did not think it wise for him to remain too near the city. He will know when it is safe to return."

"You trained him well," Aragorn smiled. "He is a noble beast. I have found myself longing for my own horse at the sight of him though I know Roheryn is safe in your father's care."

Halbyn nodded, suddenly remembering where she had been going before encountering the Nine at the Gap of Rohan. She found herself wondering if she would see her father again now that she had become involved in this Dark business sooner than she or Aragorn had intended. The dangerous possibility of losing those she held dear was increasing steadily as the days passed. For a moment a smile crossed her face; had she not met the Nazgûl while returning to her people she would never have come to know the innocent and pure soul she now shared with Pippin. The thought was enough for the smile to fade as her heart grew heavy.

"You are very quiet," Aragorn said.

"I have nothing more to say."

"You have never before kept your thoughts from me, my friend," he sounded worried. "Nor have I from you. What is it now that you can not trust me to know?"

Halbyn closed her eyes at his words. "A pain that clouds even my judgment of you. Forgive me, for my trust in you has never failed." Aragorn nodded and patiently waited for her to continue. "I meant only that I wished to have my mind on our task rather than to confuse it with such worries."

Aragorn understood the meaning of her words and he leaned forward and gently whispered in her ear.

"He lives."

Her mind was cleared; her hopes were assured, and she managed a small smile.

* * *

When they reached the gates of Edoras, Gandalf turned to Halbyn. "Our arrival will hold the guards' attention and Gríma's as well. You must slip inside the Hall and tell the Lady Éowyn not to worry."

"There are those still loyal to Théoden," she said. "She will know how to rally them."

Gandalf nodded and she leapt off the horse and set off running a fair distance away from the gates where her entry would go unnoticed. Aragorn watched her go and Legolas turned his eyes to the Golden Hall and was filled with dread.

"What is it we face here, Gandalf?" the Elf asked. "I sense darkness and death all about this place and I see with my own eyes the Black Hand that holds the castle in its grasp."

"Such is the control of the Shadow though not for much longer," Gandalf replied. "For you see now, my friends, that it was never Rohan who betrayed the Free Peoples as was rumored, but Rohan herself whom was betrayed."

"Then we shall restore our Alliance with the Riddermark and drive back the Shadow," Aragorn said with so bright a fire in his eyes unlike any of his companions had yet seen.

* * *

Gandalf had been correct in assuming that his arrival would call for full attention and even without the cover of night Halbyn snuck unseen toward and into Meduseld. She had learned well the castle's corridors during her brief stay and went directly to Éowyn's chambers, thankful for the protection of the hall's natural shadows. The Lady was there with her back to the door which the Ranger opened just enough to slip inside before closing it again without a sound. Éowyn had not noticed and swiftly Halbyn moved behind her and clasped her hand over the Shieldmaiden's mouth.

Éowyn stiffened though her cry was silent and Halbyn turned her around with a smile on her face and a finger pressed to her lips. Éowyn's features softened to relief and recognition and she smiled in return.

"I have seen with what voice you greet the Worm upon his visits, my Lady, and I could not risk the noise."

Éowyn playfully slapped the Ranger's hand away. "I may yet protest," she replied and then her face grew serious. "I visited Éomer after you left. He said you would indeed return with the hope you promised. Is he the Seer he believes himself to be?"

"Gandalf is here."

A light filled her eyes even if only for a moment. "He will not be warmly greeted; my Uncle still harbors ill will toward him for taking the great Shadowfax for his own. Still, I see now that is Gríma's doing. What now will he do?"

"He wishes you not to worry. He brings with him my Lord Aragorn as I told you he would. What hold does Gríma have over the guards?"

"He has tainted the minds of a dozen at least but his focus remains on the King," Éowyn said. "There are those who are true - Gamling would die before he should serve the Worm. His soldiers will help."

"And Erkenbrand? What of him?"

Éowyn shook her head. "His battalion left for the Fords before dawn. For all good my protests did they would not listen. I fear he is lost."

Halbyn clasped her hand on Éowyn's shoulder. "Speak not such despair. Go quickly to the throne room and tell Gamling of Gandalf's intentions. Have him and his men stand down and defy the orders of Gríma that pour from the mouth of the King. Gandalf must be allowed inside."

"I will do it and along my way clear the halls of any guards that would deny your escape." Even as she spoke she was racing from the room. Halbyn waited several moments before venturing out after her. The corridor was deserted.

* * *

"Impudent _fools_! They would dare show their faces here? Take from them their weapons - Théoden King will not have them in the Golden Hall if they are armed!"

Wormtongue was ranting and his fury grew with each passing second as he searched his mind for an idea. His task was so very near complete and he could not allow for Gandalf to spoil it as he surely would do. He dragged his snakelike tongue over his dry lips and his breath came in rasps as he sized up each of the guards that stood before him. A sly grin slowly spread across his face.

"Captain Háma," he directed his order to the man in front of him. "Be sure you take the old man's staff. By order of the King."

"Aye," Háma replied. He was angry with Gríma for adding the last statement knowing full well the Captain would not dare disobey a direct order from Théoden. He despised the smug little man but for whatever the reason he was trusted by the King and Háma knew his place better than to openly question that choice.

Gamling watched this exchange from where he stood twenty feet from the throne upon which sat his liege. A look passed between Háma and the old guard that conveyed the shared frustration toward Gríma and suspicion of Théoden's trust in him. His gaze then fell upon the Lady Éowyn as she entered from the southeast corridor and her presence held his attention.

She was changed, not in outward appearance but her manner and state. No longer did she drift like a mournful specter without purpose or life but stepped with returned determination long-since lost from her stride. In her eyes was a light and on her face a glow that mirrored the newfound passion of her heart. Many would have had to search for these differences but for Gamling, a man who had watched her grow from a tiny child into a beautiful woman, the chances were all-too plain to see.

It had broken him when he'd watched her valiant strength and energy sapped from her body by her parents' deaths and had left her a brooding, cynical shell of the woman she once was. Now he could fell his fiery will rekindled by her returned spirit and he wondered if Rohan would finally be restored to the proud and glorious land it had been.

Éowyn caught his eyes and crossed the floor to his side, trying to avoid Wormtongue's violating gaze as it followed her movements. She stood next to him not looking at him but at the King where he sat unmoving on this throne. He in turn kept his eyes on Háma.

"Do you trust me, Gamling?" she began quietly; her lips barely moved as she spoke.

"My Lady?" He did not understand, never having given anyone reason to question him on such things.

"Please. I must know." Théoden sat so stark and still, so unlike the uncle she knew not so long ago would have trusted her with his life.

"Of course, my Lady." Háma was being sent with his men to greet the callers.

"How is it you know whom you can trust?"

Gamling thought for a moment. Gríma had turned his back on the departing guards and had returned to his place on the steps at the King's feet. "I know who is unworthy of my trust."

Éowyn nodded; his answer satisfied any doubts she might have had. "I must ask you now to hold strong that trust and you will soon know my meaning."

Gamling considered her with a curious look on his face but said nothing. Many strange things had happened of late and he could not help but wonder if Éowyn knew something of great importance. Perhaps it was just an old man's foolishness but Gamling believed it to be true.

* * *

Éowyn moved away from Gamling to take her place behind the throne. Wormtongue's eyes were on her the entire time. Théoden did not acknowledge her arrival. Her stone-faced demeanor had returned; the brightness that had shone from her had faded when she had stopped to think. Slight was the chance that any change would occur by Gandalf's coming, and she now cursed herself for so readily believing the Ranger girl.

Halbyn. More than enough time had passed for her to have reached the throne room and Éowyn knew that somewhere in the shadows she was watching - and lurking. Perhaps lurking was a better word. How quickly she had fallen for Halbyn's words of hope though she knew nothing of her or the people of whom she spoke. The Dark Lord's spies were renowned for their cunning; how easily they could claim to bring a message from Gandalf if it meant gaining her trust.

Éowyn looked up; Gandalf had entered Meduseld and was approaching the throne accompanied by three strangers. One was a tall and graceful Elf, one a rugged Dwarf and one a long-legged Man of the Wild dressed in the same tattered garb of the Northern Rangers as Halbyn. She guessed him to be Aragorn of whom the Ranger girl had spoken.

A powerful feeling came over her as Éowyn gazed at the man and she saw in his grey eyes the soul of a warrior - one who fights by his heart. This was no servant of Sauron. This was a man of great strength and resolve; somebody whose will would not be governed by any other than him. And Éowyn felt in that moment that Halbyn's words had been true and she made her decision to allow Gandalf to do his duty by Théoden. She watched as he drove the power of Saruman from its hold over the King and Gamling followed her lead, spreading the word to Háma and his men to stand down. Gríma Wormtongue and those in his sway were expelled from the Golden Hall and Éowyn saw new life shine from the eyes of Théoden King as she had not seen in far too long a time.

And in one shadowy corner of the hall she saw Halbyn. The Ranger was watching her with a small smile adorning her young face and when Éowyn shifted her gaze from Halbyn again to Aragorn, she felt once more that shared hope that had lightened her heart for the briefest of moments.


	12. Éowyn's Request

Chapter Twelve: Éowyn's Request

It was not long after the liberation of Théoden King from Saruman's control that talk of war began to spread through Edoras. The White Wizard would not long suffer this humiliation and would certainly increase his attack for the decimation of Rohan now that his intent was openly known. The upper hand was his as well with Erkenbrand's battalion far out of contact range on its way to the Fords of Isen.

Gríma had been exiled from the city and Éomer released from prison and then the King had been stricken with a grief blacker than the smoke that now belched forth from the pits of Isengard to discover his beloved Théodred dead. And it was in this grief that Théoden vowed there would be no more blind deaths at the hands of the Enemy and against the council of Gandalf decreed that Rohan would make its stand at the fortress of Helm's Deep.

This new command had brought hope even to Éowyn who saw that the chance had now come to prove alongside her people that the Rohirrim would not go quietly and without a fight. But this hope was soon dashed almost as quickly as it had been formed. Théoden ordered Éowyn to stay in his place with the women and children and lead their people to take refuge at Dunharrow. The stand at Helm's Deep would draw the Enemy away and they would be safe.

"He thinks I cannot fight," said Éowyn. "He stands by foolish biases when they need every sword they can get."

"Gandalf says that this plan does not bode well for Rohan," said Halbyn. "And while I do not know what he has seen I have been taught for good reason not to doubt him. While Théoden can think of no other path upon which to lead his people at least he places confidence in you to lead the Rohirrim should the stand at Helm's Deep meet an unfavorable outcome."

"Greyhame has taught you well to put a political face on such a situation," said Éowyn. "But you are right about one thing: it is the least that he considers me. I had hoped to never again watch my kin go to war and their doom after Théodred fell. Now it is both my uncle and my brother I must endure to lose without a chance to protect them."

Éowyn fell silent and Halbyn did not reply for some time. She was carefully considering whether or not to say what was weighing heavily on her mind and stole a glance at the Shieldmaiden's pale face before coming to a decision.

"I was the youngest of my family and only a child when my two brothers went to the battle in which they were destined to meet their end. My father fell into despair as there was nobody to carry on his bloodline. My mother had died a year after I was born and father would not take another wife." Éowyn turned her head slowly to regard the Ranger but Halbyn did not acknowledge the motion. She was gazing out into the late afternoon sky watching the blue change to pink and soft lavender with each minute that passed. "I decided that it was up to me to make my father proud and honour my lost brothers," Halbyn continued. "I told him I wanted to be a warrior and he allowed me to train with the boys. Because I was smaller and lighter I was able to master the art of moving silently and hiding in the shadows sooner than the others.

"Aragorn watched me often and soon asked my father's permission to take me with him on his journeys and complete my training. He taught me to hone my skills and to fight in both the ways of Men and Elves. He said that I had great strength inside of me."

"I have seen that strength already in the short time I have known you," said Éowyn.

Halbyn half-smiled and cast a sideways glance at the other woman. "My lady, have you been spying on me?"

"I had to ensure you were trustworthy, of course," Éowyn replied. "But at least you have had a chance to prove yourself."

"My true strength and trustworthiness have yet to be proven," the Ranger said simply and noting the other woman's questioning look did not hesitate to continue. "My loyalty is divided. My heart is here with my land, my people and my liege, but Queen Galadriel has revealed my soul to be shared with another. Should the time come at last to choose, how then will my strength hold?"

Éowyn had no words with which to respond and she was then summoned away by Gamling to speak with Théoden. Halbyn watched her go, feeling strongly the other woman's frustration, and then made her way out of the Golden Hall into the cool afternoon air.

She turned her eyes to the East then for a moment as she walked slowly down the path from Meduseld and her gaze was unconsciously drawn across the long grasses and rocky plains of Rohan to where she knew the sparkling water of the roaring Anduin ran deep. Beyond lay the swampy fenland of the Dead Marshes and to the south the green woodland of Ithilien, marking the farthest east she had ever dared venture. Then her eye line drifted east again until, had she the farsight of the Eldar, she would have locked her stare on the black tower of Minas Morgul.

A wave of nausea swept over her and she stumbled off the path and clutched the burning hot pain in her side. Her blood began to pound in her ears and grew louder and louder until it was the only thing she could hear. Her breath caught in her throat and her chest tightened as the shallow rasps could not fill her lungs. She struggled to free her gaze from the hold of the Dead City and her eyes began to sting and tear, so desperate they were to blink. Her stomach wrenched and she dropped to one knee and then above the throbbing in her ears another sound arose. A piercing shriek that was at first a faint whisper but began to crescendo in both pitch and volume until Halbyn's hands flew to her ears and she clawed frantically at the side of her head in an attempt to dig out the penetrating voice of the Lord of the Nazgûl. She opened her mouth in a silent agonized scream, any sound having vanished with her stolen breath. Her vision blurred and darkened around the edges and the scar on her side seemed to burst open and flood her entire body with black fire. She sank again now to both knees, willing the pain to end.

And then it was gone, stopped just as suddenly as it had begun, and Halbyn squeezed tight her eyes. She drew deep into her lungs the sweet cool air and became aware of a strong hand firmly gripping her shoulder. The shrieking and pounding in her head had been silenced and she realized she could now hear a familiar voice calling her name. Unable yet to find words she grasped the hand and waited for her heartbeat to steady.

"I'm all right," she breathed, rubbing her eyes with her free hand.

"What happened?" Aragorn asked. His voice was laced with deep concern.

"I don't know," she replied and used his support to pull herself to her feet. "A thought came to my mind – a suggestion even – to look a ways hence," she pointed southeast. "I could see nothing unusual and yet a clear image I perceived of what lay in that direction and who it is that rules within those walls.

"He is toying with me!" she said and turned to Aragorn with eyes full of fear. "I am nothing to him and yet he mocks me still. Within my thoughts remains a piece of his dark influence."

"No doubt it amuses him to hold this power over a mortal, and one so close in Gandalf's council," Aragorn frowned. "I can only guess as to his purpose if he has one beyond his own sadistic pleasure."

The sun was nearly set and the two Rangers walked in silence to the stables. Lumbulë had returned the previous night at Halbyn's call and she went to him now and lovingly stroked his peppery mane. He whinnied softly and nudged her shoulder and watched her closely with his wet black eyes. He could sense something amiss in her manner and nudged her again in concern.

"I am unhurt," she told him and reassuringly rubbed his neck.

"It would be best to take council with Gandalf on this matter," Aragorn said. He fed Hasufel a handful of oats from a nearby barrel and then moved to inspect the leather bridle that hung on the stable wall. "In any case, Théoden means to make for Helm's Deep at dawn. I worry now for your part in this journey."

Halbyn's eyes burned then as Éowyn's frustration at being unable to fight came to the front of her mind. She moved from Lumbulë to the stable window and her voice was hard when she spoke. "I hope you do not mean to leave me behind."

Aragorn turned to look at her though her gaze remained locked in surveillance of the darkening fields of Rohan. He did not respond immediately and instead took note of the angry gleam in her eye. His expression went unchanged and he gathered his thoughts before he spoke. "I cannot remember a time when I asked you without reason to leave my side."

"Because you value my skill as a warrior."

"Because I value your unquestioning loyalty."

Halbyn felt her cheeks grow hot with the guilt of her unprovoked accusation. "Forgive me. I had no right."

"On the contrary," Aragorn allowed a small smile to cross his face as he realized for whom this anger was derived. He moved to her side and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "It is that loyalty that you extend to all those you call friend. It is admirable and part of the reason that I took it upon myself to train you.

"Éowyn however has no training or knowledge of war and Théoden knows though he does not show it that there is little hope surrounding this coming battle. He thinks of her as his own and sees no point in putting her forth in such a risk. Especially now that mortality is so very real for him with the loss of his only son."

"I understand," Halbyn replied. "But that will not calm the Shieldmaiden's angry heart."

"Nor should it," Aragorn said and then he would speak on the matter no more and she did not press him further.

Gandalf sent for them then and upon their arrival told them of his intentions to leave and seek aid for the nearing war. He was quite certain it was necessary for them to survive Helm's Deep and bade them to look for his coming at dawn three days hence. Though he had a mind to leave that moment he stayed his flight, sensing the Rangers had something of importance to tell him. Halbyn relayed the lingering effects of the Black Breath as they accompanied him back to the stables.

"The Witch-King of Angmar is deep within Sauron's council," Gandalf hummed half to himself. "Perhaps it is in the Dark Lord's mind that control over one of the Dùnedain might reveal the heir of Elendil prematurely from within their ranks?" The wizard's eyes peered out from beneath his bushy eyebrows and regarded both Aragorn and Halbyn carefully. "This cannot come to pass at this time," he said finally. "The two of you must make certain of that. One side now – I must fly from this place for I have lost precious minutes already. Away, Shadowfax!" He leapt upon the great steed and was gone.

* * *

The sun had long since bid farewell to the sky and the waxing moon had nearly reached the peak of her journey when Halbyn spoke to Éowyn again.

The Ranger sat on her own on the winding stone stairway carved into the hill on top of which stood the Golden Hall. She had her eyes closed and her hood drawn back and was absently running her slender fingers along the hilt of her sword as she listened intently to the sounds of the night. A cool, gentle wind was blowing across the plain, rustling the long grasses and thatched roofs of the city. Crickets and grasshoppers played their chirping melody in every direction. Wooden houses creaked and settled in their foundations. From the stables a horse whinnied and was answered by another. A dog barked once and then gave an uneasy whine and fell silent. Scraping footsteps of patrolling guards came from Meduseld. On the breeze was a faint scent, of burning and death.

And then there was a new sound – more footsteps but softer than those of the soldiers. The person was barefoot and walked cautiously but with purpose. Halbyn smiled.

"Something troubles you, my Lady?"

"What does the North wind tell you tonight, Ranger?" Éowyn asked curiously, saving her answer to Halbyn's question for later.

"It regrettably bears ill omen. Tidings of war and a heavy warning against this power Saruman sends to challenge Rohan. The beasts have smelled the proof it brings swiftly on its wings."

"It is about this war that I come now to speak to you," Éowyn began.

"My Lady," Halbyn opened her eyes now and regarded the cold sad face of the pale woman next to her. "I fear there is nothing I can do. I hold no authority in this land and can be of no help to you."

"But you can," Éowyn replied swiftly. "I bring to you a new request. You were sent here to watch over Éowyn the child of Éomund, his only daughter. Now I beg you to extend this duty to his son, my brother Éomer. Protect him in this hopeless battle."

Halbyn took only a moment to look into the pleading eyes of the White Lady of Rohan. Éowyn had resolved that if she could not be there for her kindred then she would set the task upon her servant in her stead. The Ranger did not ever debate her answer.

"Rest easy. No blade or bowstring shall claim victory over Éomer son of Éomund save by first cutting down Halbyn of the Dùnedain."


	13. Tidings of War

Chapter Thirteen: Tidings of War

The journey was hard with very little time for rest as Théoden was hard-pressed to reach Helm's Deep and rendezvous with Erkenbrand's troops. It troubled the King greatly to think upon the ill-advised commands he had given in his blindness. And now that Gandalf had gone again he had no advisor at all and clung to the hope that he could still right many wrongs were it not yet too late.

Halbyn kept Lumbulë in pace just behind where Aragorn, Éomer and Legolas rode three abreast with Éomer's horse, Firefoot, bearing Gimli as well.

A new problem had risen in the she-Ranger's thoughts and though she felt badly for Éowyn's position it had not gone unnoticed by Halbyn how the Shieldmaiden looked upon Aragorn. Already in the very short time she had known him it was clear how Éowyn felt about the heir of Isildur. And while she had been charged with her safety, Halbyn found it difficult due to her loyalty to Arwen to approve of Éowyn's love for her master.

These thoughts were driven from her mind for the moment by a distant sound and she stood in the stirrups and turned her ear to the wind to catch it again over the hoof beats of their army. Aragorn and Legolas did the same.

"I heard it as well," Legolas said. "The thundering footsteps of the army that pursues us. They appear to my eyes as a great black cloud."

"They are closer than they should be," Aragorn agreed.

"Very handy to have around, these Elves and Rangers," Gimli said, nudging Éomer's shoulder.

"So I see," he replied. "If they are just as handy in battle I will be most gracious indeed."

"You've nothing to fear there, though I dare say the Elf's bow cannot compare to the fury of my ax," the Dwarf returned evenly, glancing at Legolas and patting his weapon with a laugh.

"We shall see," the Elf said simply.

There was little more to say and Théoden quickened the pace to reach Helm's Deep with as much time as possible to prepare. Upon their arrival it was learned from those already taken refuge in the fortress that Erkenbrand was not among them. The news was hard; he would have made a powerful ally in the coming war.

But there was no time to dwell upon this misfortune, for the strength of Isengard was closing fast and there was much to do to fortify the Deeping Wall and the citadel called the Hornburg. To this task much of their number was set.

The wall itself was a marvel and when Halbyn and Gimli went to inspect its defenses they could not help but be impressed. Its vast expanse stretched across the valley and was built high enough to keep even the tallest orc or man from climbing over in secret. Gimli touched the stone with a loving shown only by a Dwarf for things built of the earth by hard work and great skill.

"I feel safe behind these walls," he said. "More so than I have yet on this journey even in the magical wood of Lórien – and that my dear says something," he added, turning to Halbyn with a flicker of a smile.

"That it does, master Dwarf," Halbyn replied. "And I've a mind to agree with you, knowing what I do of the skill of your people. If these walls warrant your approval then I know they will not fail."

"You flatter me," he nodded graciously, "and knowing what I do about the skill of your people I'll feel quite safe indeed fighting by your side. Aragorn speaks very highly of you, lady."

"I can only hope I live up to his stories," she smiled, crouching down to examine a small culvert at the base of the wall. A stream flowing down from the mountain into which the fort was built gurgled through the opening. "What about this? Should it be stopped up?"

Gimli waded into the water to take a closer look. "Only as a last resort, I should think. This area would flood without somewhere for the water to go – _ah_! Iron bars line the inside. I would deem it an acceptable defense against any orc seeking passage."

"An orc, perhaps, but a goblin of Moria could squeeze through well enough, if they've brought any with them," Halbyn frowned, peering in to look for herself.

"If it pleases, you and I shall set special guard on the culvert tonight," Gimli said, striking the irons with his ax to make a point of their strength. "No usurper of my cousin's kingdom will escape our vigilance."

* * *

"Is she a relation of yours?" Éomer asked, watching Halbyn and Gimli walk along the wall as he stood at the battlement of the Hornburg. "She has your look."

"I am directly descended from Isildur and her family from his strongest and most trusted Captain," Aragorn replied, looking up from where he sat carefully cleaning Andùril. "We are cousins various times removed, depending on whom traces the lines back, but aside from Elrond of Imladris she and her father are now the closest I have to family."

"And yet you bring her here?" Éomer raised an eyebrow. "You allow one so dear to you to be near such peril?"

"I would have her nowhere else but by my side in circumstances such as these. She is a warrior."

"She is a woman."

Aragorn smiled politely. "I think, my dear horsemaster, that you will find by daybreak that she is both."

Éomer said nothing and returned to his preparations. The day was quickly failing. It was imperative that the last man be at his post before the lingering sun had disappeared from the sky. By the enemy's pace the last stand at Helm's Deep would then begin.

* * *

As the final hour drew nigh the men became restless and Háma, the captain of the King's guard, began to bark orders to maintain their focus. Halbyn sought to still her mind and found Legolas to bear similar intentions. They silently ducked away from the mass of soldiers to take refuge on the battlements of the Deeping Wall. There they put their superior skills to use, restringing a collection of bows that had obviously not been used in some time. Not a word was said between them. The silence was reassuring, though both were aware of the thundering footfalls drawing ever near.

The last light had long-since faded and the first of the men that had been posted at the mouth of the valley had retreated breathless to the fort to report the first contact with this army of Isengard. Éomer sent his fighters to the Wall where Halbyn and Legolas distributed the bows and helped set the lines. He along with Aragorn and Gimli soon joined them and the two Rangers exchanged a last encouraging look as the sky opened with a thunderous warning and unleashed a furious rainstorm.

And then it was begun. The Uruk-hai descended like a black cloud before the fort, bellowed their claims of invincibility. Legolas and Halbyn fitted arrows to their bowstrings and awaited the command to loose them, even as a flurry of orc-men threw themselves against the gates of the Hornburg. Ammunition was limited and they could not afford a shot that was not sure to be a hit.

"Legolas, my friend," Gimli began gruffly, his beady eyes gleaming fiercely. "I'll wager that when the dust settles I'll have spilled more orc-blood than you."

Legolas blinked, momentarily caught off-guard by the Dwarf's brashness and the mirth in his voice, considering the situation. "A bet?" he asked when he had found his voice again. "But what shall you give me when I win?"

Gimli laughed. "We shall settle the stakes later on, master Elf, when I sit upon a hewn pile of bodies and you are still sniffing about for your first kill."

The order came then to shoot and Legolas along with the rest of the archers let his arrow fly. In the dim, rain-streaked night they could see it lodge neatly in the soft flesh of the neck of an Uruk, just above its armour, and drop him lifeless to the ground.

"Your second kill then!"

* * *

The massive orc-men clambered against the smooth walls of Helm's Deep as they screamed and gnashed their jagged teeth. Furious shouts came from the wild Dunlendings that Saruman had swayed against Rohan as the foul Uruks fed their raging hatred. Lesser men would have lost their nerve many times over by the sound alone but the armies of Théoden were a hardy race and held fast even as the yellow eyes burned up at them from the darkness below.

It was not long before the supply of arrows began to dwindle; Halbyn reached into her quiver only to find it empty. So focused had she been on the task at hand that she hadn't noticed anything else save for the armour with which she had been fitted. The strange garment was not made for a woman and was loose in places it should have been tight and tight in places it should have been loose. She had needed to adjust her aim to accommodate the change.

Legolas pulled out his last two arrows and handed one to Halbyn. "Make it count," he said and she gratefully accepted it. "Though I am sure to bring down a bigger Uruk with mine."

"Oh, no," she laughed as she fitted the arrow to her bowstring. "I'll thank you both to leave me out of this competition. I am likely to get myself killed just trying to keep up with you and master Gimli."

Legolas looked to share a chuckle with the Dwarf but found him nowhere to be seen. "Speaking of our stout friend," he said as he scanned the ranks along the wall for a sign of him.

Halbyn followed his lead. "Aragorn and Éomer have disappeared as well," she noted. Their concentration had been deep indeed not to have noticed their companions slip away, for the two Men in particular had not been stealthy about it.

Unconsciously they shifted their gaze to the winding stone pathway that led up to the Hornburg. A group of Uruks had made their way up to the gates carrying with them a crude and vicious-looking battering ram. The wooden doors bore signs of its bite but the reason for their ceased attack was quickly apparent and solved the mystery of the whereabouts of Aragorn and Éomer.

The two men had gone into battle together as they had charged forth from the Keep to drive back the giant orcs from their onslaught and allow the gate to be braced. On such a narrow platform chance did not favour the Uruks and they had quickly fallen back to their army. But as Aragorn and Éomer had been summoned back into the fort, one that had been supposed dead sprang up behind them.

It was in this moment that Gimli was discovered to have quietly followed the men and he leapt from his hiding place and ambushed the orc, hewing him like a putrid, foul tree with his axe. As the Dwarf moved to follow his compatriots inside, a group of Dunlendings ran up the ramp in pursuit and this time there was no secret ally to come upon them from the shadows. Legolas and Halbyn wordlessly drew their bowstrings and together shot down the two leaders. Startled, the wild men looked to the wall from where the arrows had come and in doing so allowed Aragorn, Éomer and Gimli to escape.

"Does it count as two when I save his life?" Legolas mused.

"You'll have to take it up with him," the Ranger laughed. "Though I wouldn't fancy the tongue-lashing Gimli would be sure to dole out were you to suggest that he would not have been able to handle himself."

They then left their place in the ranks to search for more arrows.

* * *

If what there was of luck had been on their side early in the battle it was soon changed. The Uruks had brought with them a strange weapon born of Saruman's cruel cunning and had blown a gaping hole in the Deeping Wall large enough for them to come streaming through like a raging black river. Fire and smoldering rock rained down and splashed into the collected pools of cold water that dotted the ground within the fort, creating a thick veil of eerie mist to rise.

Aragorn and Halbyn looked up at the sound of the explosion that still rattled in their ears and abandoned their attempted repairs on a loose chink in his armour where it had turned aside a direct hit from an orc-blade. Many Rohirrim were already dead, either by the sheer force with which they had been flung to the ground or by the crushing, falling stones when the wall had crumbled beneath their feet. Those that had not been killed were still gathering their senses and were therefore easy targets for the onslaught of orcs. The Rangers bounded across the courtyard to defend them and were quickly joined by Legolas and Gimli and Éomer, and by Háma and Gamling of the King's guard as well.

There was no time to waste pondering how little hope there was to survive each passing moment, let alone the rest of the night and each of them blocked all such thoughts from their minds, concentrating only on the battle before them. When it seemed an age had passed and the order finally came to fall back to the Keep, they were scattered across the courtyard with many enemies blocking their path.

It was then in his attempt to fight his way through that Háma was overwhelmed and cut down by a massive Uruk and he fell heavily into a muddy pool.

Éomer had seen and with a mighty bellow he lunged at the creature, his sword swinging wildly. His anger amused the great orc and it used its superior strength to force Éomer ever backward no matter how he pressed his attack. Finally he stumbled over a large rock as they neared the base of the mountain and the Uruk used the moment in which he was off-balance to push him to the ground. Éomer lost his grip on the hilt of his sword and it skirted across the stony earth as the orc pinned him down with one heavy, iron-booted foot pressed firmly into his chest.

"I am called Lôrmakk," the Uruk gurgled in a voice that sounded to Éomer as vile and thick as a bubbling tar pit. Foamy black blood slathered from its scarred lips and two yellow eyes held him in their piercing glare from behind a jagged iron helm. "And I know who you are, Marshal of the horse-boys!

"You and your kind slew many of my brethren outside that filthy tree-realm, meddling in businesses that were not yours for meddling. But where one is slain, three of us will rise to avenge him! We are the fighting Uruk-hai! We will not stop until all Whiteskins are dead and burning!"

A cruel smile crawled across its face. "It began with the little Princeling. I was there when our great arrows pierced his body."

Éomer's strength surged but it was not enough to lift the foot that continued to press him harder into the sharp rocks. "I'll kill you twice for that, foul beast," he spat. "Théodred was my cousin!"

"I know," Lôrmakk laughed. "And now you will curse your failures together in your land of the dead. You can thank the White Hand for your reunion!"

The Uruk raised his deadly blade high and brought it down with a heavy stroke only to have it clash against metal, stopping it mere inches from Éomer's neck. Lôrmakk snarled menacingly as his gaze shifted up the edge of his sword to the grey-eyed girl that held it from hitting its mark.

"I remember you," the orc snorted and leaned on his sword, forced her to shift her weight to better brace herself under him. He had the leverage and her arms began to shake as her muscles cramped in their effort to hold him back. "The Ranger-bitch that the Nazgûl marked at the Gap. You're already dead, girl. The Witch-King will take you bit by maggoty bit. Do you want me to end your suffering now? I'll kill you quickly and save your tasty flesh for my breakfast!"

"Whatever you do," Halbyn replied with great strain evident in her voice. "You'll not get to him without killing me first. He is in my charge."

Lôrmakk cackled harshly and then pressed ever harder until Halbyn was forced to drop to her knees to keep the sharp edge from advancing on Éomer's throat. The horse-lord struggled to no avail under Lôrmakk's weight; the Uruk was balanced perfectly to hold them both at his mercy.

And then the situation was instantly changed as the great orc reeled backward, howling in pain. He twisted away and revealed to them a large battle-axe lodged firmly in his back. Even as he saw Gimli running toward them Éomer rolled out from under the anguished creature and grasped the hilt of his sword. Faster than anyone else could react he was on his feet and burying the blade deep into Lôrmakk's gut. The foul orc gave one last sputtering snarl before collapsing, choking on the thick blood that filled his throat as his final breath left his blackened lungs.

Halbyn and Gimli watched Éomer move to where Háma lay dying and then assessed their chances of escaping to safety. The Uruk-hai were everywhere; like a swarm of ants they had driven through the gaping hole in the wall and overrun the courtyard. It seemed the only reason they were not yet discovered lay in the army's single-minded determination to storm the Keep, taking no notice of such a small group of bodies in the shadows of the rocky cliffs. This luck would not last much longer. The more impatient and hungry of their numbers would be coming to sniff among the dead for their dinners.

"My lord," Halbyn said urgently. "We must get out of here!"

"The path to the fort is blocked," Gimli said. "Is there any other way in?"

While Éomer had no response to give, the answer came to them in a voice calling from secret cracks in the cliff-side. "To me, my lord!" Gamling called, revealing himself. "Several of us have taken refuge in the Glittering Caves under the mountain. But we must hurry before we are seen!"

"Can you move?" Éomer asked Háma. The man nodded weakly but stumbled as Éomer helped him to his feet. Halbyn was swiftly at his side and they half-carried, half-dragged him to the cavern entrance. Gimli brought up the rear and Gamling quickly sealed the door behind them.

* * *

The thundering of heavy iron-clad feet continued long into the night, often rattling the cave walls enough to knock loose dust and small stones. The men of Rohan that had managed to escape the slaughter to take sanctuary here (and they were a mere handful compared to the army of the White Hand that still lurked just outside the hidden door, tantalized by the lingering smell of warm man-flesh) sat quietly in huddled groups. Many of them were wounded; for some, like Háma, the situation was grim.

They shared their refuge with the women and children of the peasant families that had fled to Helm's Deep when the Dunlendings had begun burning the villages scattered over the Westfold. Halbyn and Gimli had walked among them with comforting words and the belief that other races – Dwarves and Northerners and even Elves by their tales! – had come to Rohan's aid seemed to give them hope.

"Perhaps we should not mention that our number is a great and powerful four," Gimli mumbled for Halbyn's ears alone before they returned to Éomer who sat crouched next to Háma. The Ranger gently touched his shoulder and, when he looked up, handed him the clean rags she had gathered for changing the dressing on the captain's wound. Éomer gave her a tired smile of thanks and carefully peeled the bloody cloth from the gash on his companion's chest. Háma inhaled sharply through clenched teeth and grasped Éomer's wrist until the pain finally subsided to a more tolerable level.

"Legend speaks of the Dúnedain as powerful Healers," Éomer said as he made sure to keep pressure on the wound. His words were carefully formed to be casual conversation but his eyes held much meaning when he turned to regard Halbyn again.

"That is a skill belonging to the line of Kings," she replied apologetically. "Aragorn would be able to help him, I think, but I can only do my best to ease his pain and stop the bleeding. We haven't even any herbs available in here."

"So he is to give up all hope then?" Éomer said harshly and a shadow darkened his eyes. "Is Háma the captain of Théoden King's guard, a man who stayed fiercely loyal to his liege even as things were at their worst and strange orders were issued from the mouth of Gríma Wormtongue to imprison Éomer the King's own nephew – is he to simply roll over and take comfort in saying 'oh well, nevermind! At least they did their best?'"

A low growl erupted from Gimli and he moved in front of Halbyn who stared in shock at Éomer. "I would have you take that back, horsemaster!" he said warningly. "That is no way to speak to a woman – especially one who has put her life on the line tonight to keep you from losing yours!"

Háma quietly touched Éomer's hand and the light returned to the young Marshal's eyes as a look of horror came over him. "Forgive me," he said swiftly. "I was wrong to say such things. Of course everything you have done is greatly appreciated."

"We must never lose all hope, my lord," she whispered after a moment and then moved to leave with Gimli to continue their rounds.

* * *

The army of the White Hand was growing more and more restless as the night dragged on and they still had yet to break into the Hornburg. The Uruk-hai were becoming increasingly more determined to uncover the source of the appetizing smell that seemed to inexplicably remain along the rocky cliffs. The prospect of having warm flesh to rip into rather than the many dead bodies soaking in the muddy water all over the valley was too tantalizing to resist.

Halbyn sat at the entrance to the cave with a keen ear pressed against the stone, tracking the Uruks' movements. They had come very close on more than one occasion but their grunts of frustration told her that they were no nearer to discovering the sealed doorway than they were several hours ago.

Éomer chose this time to go and speak with her and made to clear his throat so as not to startle her with his voice as he approached from behind. Before he had uttered a sound she raised her hand to silence him and did not turn to face him until she was certain there were no orcs in possible hearing range. Too stunned by her brash unspoken command to be upset at being given an order, Éomer chuckled softly and took a formal stance.

"If I promised to keep a civil tongue in my head, would you permit me to speak with you?" he said teasingly as an act of contrition to his behavior from earlier in the night.

"Yes," she said simply and then indicated the doorway. "But not here. We may be overheard so close to the outside. The Uruk-hai now know that the mountain holds more than meets the eye." Éomer nodded in agreement and the two moved smoothly deeper into the cavern to where the villagers and soldiers were gathered. "I hope you would never think that I would deliberately _not_ help somebody who needed it, had I the ability and resources," she began quietly and searched his face carefully for the truth in his answer.

"I was wrong to imply that you would," he said and shook his head. "It was merely a desperate hope dashed by the answer that I feared. I offer my most sincere apologies."

"Of course, my lord. He is dear to you." She paused and chose her next words carefully. "How is he?"

"Gamling sits with him. His breath is faint and the wound festers. Orc blades are known to be tipped with poison." He offered no more on the subject and Halbyn did not press the subject. "Where is your Dwarf friend?"

"He was restless and went to explore the deeper parts of these caves," she said with a smile. "I think they remind him of home."

"It is a hard thing to leave," Éomer replied and it seemed to Halbyn that his hard features softened for a moment. Whether he was thinking of home itself, all the hardships that had fallen upon his household, or the sister he had left behind, she could not say. "I must ask you something."

"All right."

"When you stopped the Uruk from lopping my head from my shoulders, you said something that I found odd. 'You'll not get to him without killing me first. He is in my charge.'" Éomer looked at her directly to more clearly read her face. "What did you mean?"

"Before we left Edoras I was bade by your sister Éowyn to keep you safe," she said, returning his look to assure him there was no lie in her words. "I gave her my word. She has lost too many of those dear to her."

"Haven't we all?" he said and nodded slowly. "But it would seem that my dear sister well chooses her charges. I must thank you for skillfully keeping that promise to her." Here Éomer laughed loudly as the reality of how close he had come to death finally sank in. "Your master said I would see you prove your worth before the night was over. You make him proud."

The cave shook before she could reply. The walls rattled loose larger stones than before and the ground beneath their very feet quaked so violently that they had to steady themselves before they could once again walk. Gimli came running from out of the depths of the cavern with a twinkle in his eye. He held up his hand as he saw the terror in their faces.

"Fear not! This is no earthquake – I have felt them many times before!" he said in excitement. "Can you not hear the deep ancient cry behind the rumbling? It is the voice of the mountain that speaks to us!"

"It is the horn of Helm Hammerhand!" Éomer said after gathering his senses and listening to the sound that Gimli had heard. "Théoden King rides forth! Rohirrim – we prepare to go to our lord!" The restored vigor in the voice of their young Marshal roused the soldiers to their feet once more and now the booming of the horn rang clear in their ears. As they made their way to the entrance of the caves, Éomer saw Gamling moving with them and caught him by the arm. "How does he fare?"

"His pain is gone," Gamling replied. "Háma goes now to his father."

Éomer felt a lump form in his throat but stayed strong, looking from the assembled troops to Halbyn and Gimli and then back to Gamling.

"We must tend to his body when all is said and done. Now, Helm Hammerhand calls us back to war!"

The sealed doorway was torn away and the Rohirrim sprang forth to behold a surprising sight: the sun was just rising over the tips of the protective Ered Nimrais to bathe the valley in a warm yellow glow. To their left from the Hornburg rode a host of the King's Men, led by Théoden and Aragorn to meet the Army of the White Hand where they stood shouting for more bloodshed. At the mouth of Helm's Dike, shining with a brilliant white light all of his own was Gandalf upon Shadowfax leading Erkenbrand and his battalion from where he had gathered them at the Fords of Isen. And beyond them, barely discernable through the radiance of the White Wizard, a vast woodland had knitted itself together, leaving no possible escape from the valley save by crossing its dark and ominous borders.

"Hope is come to us, my lord," Halbyn smiled knowingly at the bewildered look on Éomer's face.


End file.
